Venomous II
by Phinea Rogue
Summary: A sequel to Venomous. Voldemort knows that Snape has betrayed him and he begins to toy with his mind in an attempt to gain him back. What are his plans? How will Snape deal with it? [completed] no slash, no HBP spoilers
1. Chapter One

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Title: Venomous II, Part I

(A Story in Two Parts)

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Author: Phinea Rogue

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Rating: PG-13 for now (if it gets more than PG-13, please, remind me to change it to R, I'm not really sure about these ratings)

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Characters: especially Severus Snape, then also Voldemort, Tarquinius and some others

All the characters belong to JKR; I'm merely borrowing them (though Tarquinius is mine).

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Here is the promised sequel, I couldn't have come with it earlier as I had some problems with my exams and me (and I was quite depressed because of that). This is going to be dealing with Severus mostly and Voldemort and I've decided that there're going to be two parts – one with Severus and Voldemort and the other one . . . you'll see. As I have already said, what I fear most can happen to Severus will happen in this story. I hope you'll enjoy the sequel (if you haven't read Venomous, I suggest you read that first). If there are mistakes, please, let me know what exactly it is as I'm not a native English speaker, but I can learn to be better in English this way. Thanks.

:: :: means telephatic speech

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"When a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin'

and no one that matters to 'em anymore . . ."

Hagrid, The Philosopher's Stone

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Chapter One

Almost midnight. Quiet and peaceful as most inhabitants of Hogsmeade had already retreated into their cool homes. Those were the respectful inhabitants of the village, those who had tucked their children into beds, had whispered lullabies and fairy tales to them, and then contentedly had settled in their living rooms thinking about the events of another warm summer day. Only the Hog's Head bar remained full of buzzing energy as its customers had began to pour in only some minutes ago, sweeping into the small dirty room in various dark clothes that guarded their anonymity. Thieves, gamblers, dark creatures . . . Harry shivered slightly when a pair of glittering dark eyes settled hungrily upon him. So much like Snape's eyes, but instead of loathing these were filled with hunger. He had never before seen a vampire and the sight of one was enough to nearly spellbind him. A hand shook him, making him turn his attention away from the enthralling creature.

"I assume you weren't listening," laughed the man sitting opposite of him. Harry blinked and looked at Tarquinius Snape, struggling to clear his vision and mind though Firewhiskey wasn't helping him much. Tarquinius's hair had come loose, hanging in damp strands about his neck and face. He tossed his hair back from his grey eyes and laughed. His gaze trailed off to the vampire. "Magnificent creatures, are they? Watch out, Harry, they can easily lure you into eternal darkness."

Harry gulped, painfully aware that if they were to be found drinking in a bar, a certain equally dark, but human creature would make them wish they had never been born. Where had he left his mind when Tarquinius had suggested a secret visit to Hog's Head? There he was, drinking Firewhiskey and knowing well that Snape was most probably turning Hogwarts upside down in search for them like a furious, overgrown bat. He shouldn't have sneaked out of school, certainly not with Tarquinius and not to a bar. But Tarquinius had been so nice to him over the past two weeks, gentle and understanding, playing Quidditch with him. He remembered Snape's face when he had seen them and he could swear that for a moment hurt had flickered in it. Lupin had mentioned that Tarquinius found it easier to interact with Harry than with Snape as if he was that fifteen-sixteen years old teenager who he had lost contact with years ago and now continued as if nothing had happened, he continued right where they had been separated. His real son, in Tarquinius's opinion, was an enigma; he couldn't understand the man he had become. And both Harry and Tarquinius felt the need to escape the golden cage Hogwarts had become to them, to run away just for a while, to enjoy their fragile freedom and lack of overprotecting hands. But now when Harry began to think about it, he knew it had been foolish of them. Death Eaters could be around, hungry to please their master and what could be better than give him Harry and Tarquinius?

"Tarquin, we should return . . ." suggested Harry carefully, but the older Snape waved his worries away.

"Aren't you supposed to be brave, Harry? What are you afraid of?" he laughed and poured himself more alcohol. "There's no bloody ghost spying on us, no Dumbledore, Lupin or Severus."

Yet Harry felt that the barman had surveyed them suspiciously, what if he had told Dumbledore?

"Severus, Severus," sighed Tarquinius heavily and pushed an old, torn photography to Harry. The teen looked at it and smiled. It was Snape, very young, maybe twelve or thirteen, but even at such a young age he was clearly recognisable with the familiar frown, pallid face and long, dark hair. The photo had been torn several times, then glued together.

"This I had with me in Azkaban. Often I tore him into pieces in anger, cursing him, and then I glued him together again. I've never been a good man, Harry, I almost killed my only son and even now he manages to annoy me, trying my patience and I want to hurt him when he bosses me around."

He drank his glass of Firewhiskey in one gulp and poured himself another one. Harry was sure they were going never to forget this evening when they return to Hogwarts. Tarquinius went on pouring his heart out to Harry; alcohol had loosened his tongue and emotions. The teen forced himself to listen, but his attention was drawn back to the vampire like a moth to a flame.

"He's so distant, so scornful . . ."

The dark creature ran his elegant fingers through his glossy, brown curls and an impish smile settled on his pale lips. Harry felt a chill run over him, too deep to be called fear, it was as if he knew something was going to happen, something bad. This vampire wanted something.

"Why can't he understand I feel locked?"

The vampire drew a slow breath, and licked his lips. ::Sweet Harry, come out, come.::

Harry startled at the voice in his head, and averted his gaze. They really shouldn't have come; vampires were obviously as dangerous as Death Eaters were. Snape would kill them; he would skin them alive. Again he glanced at the dark creature, but his eyes fell on a man walking over to them. He stopped at the table, his onyx eyes burning with cruel flame of barely suppressed anger. The familiar cold smile was hovering on his lips as he faced them. With slow deliberation he crossed his arms, letting his black robes settle around him like a dark shadow. His eyes narrowed slightly when he spoke silkily,

"Well, well, well . . . Are you too enjoying yourself? Might I inquire as to why you two gentlemen left Hogwarts without a single word . . ."

Snape's voice trailed off in a question while his dark eyes shot daggers at both Harry and Tarquinius. The vampire kept on watching them, an amused expression lighting up his face. Snape tossed some coins onto the table and grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him outside. Tarquinius first followed obediently, but outside the bar in a sudden burst of energy he came to life, whirled around and slammed his son against the wall. Harry gasped, frozen to the ground, when Tarquinius began shaking Snape furiously. Since his release from St Mungo's, he had never behaved violently. Snape pushed him away and aimed his wand at him. With a sneer playing on his mouth, he advanced on his father, pressing his wand against his broad chest.

"Father," he whispered softly, "you are not locked in St Mungo purely because of my good will. You have agreed not to drink, to follow your healer's instructions and to behave. You are my responsibility. Either you follow my rules or you return to hospital. Do I make myself clear?"

Snape lifted his fine dark eyebrow waiting for an answer. Tarquinius's icy grey eyes darted from the wand to his son's face while he felt another wave of anger building inside him. "Severus, I'm physically stronger than you . . ." he hissed through his clenched teeth. Harry stepped back, wishing they were back at Hogwarts, or at least that the two Snapes would stop glaring at each other. However, they seemed like wanting to quarrel right there and right now. Tarquinius grabbed Snape's right hand firmly watching with almost forgotten satisfaction how he cringed, how his dark eyes began to glitter dangerously and how he tried to free his hand. When he let go of his wand, Tarquinius pulled him closer.

"I told you I'm stronger, Severus!"

"Are you?" laughed Snape maliciously, his voice lowered to silken whisper, "You can't resist a drink, or master your emotions. How remarkably strong of you!"

Before Harry could voice his opinion about the prudence of taunting Tarquinius, Snape found himself flung to the wall with such force he was sure he heard his bones rattle. "What do you want? You have no idea how difficult this is!" roared the older Snape while the younger one slumped to the ground. "You imprison me! Your bloody ghost is constantly spying on me! Dumbledore treats me as some filth, acting as if **he** were your father!"

For a moment he paused to take a deep breath before continuing. Harry noticed that Snape's eyes were unfocused and he was biting his lower lip.

"You scorn me!"

Snape shook his head slowly. "I do not," he whispered.

"But you do!" yelled Tarquinius, "I see it in your eyes, how you disdain me! You take care of me, you spend all you have on me, but you don't find me worthy to let me through your walls! You're so distant. You tell me what to do, where to go, where to live, you manipulate me. I've had enough. ENOUGH!"

Trembling in anger and frustration, Tarquinius spun around and left, disappearing into the night. Harry braced himself for whatever was to follow. "Harry's more like a son to me!" came one last cry from the older Snape before he was gone, making Snape flinch. Harry's heart skipped a beat when those ominous dark eyes bore into his, piercing them with their hatred and repugnance. He knew all too well the dangerous glitter and trembling of the lower lip and instinctively his fingers tightened around his wand in his pocket. Snape rose slowly from the ground, wincing slightly in pain, and straightened himself to tower above Harry like a deadly Dementor. He grabbed Harry's arm, but the boy thought he did it only to steady himself, he wasn't rough with him. However, when he took hold of him again, the grip was firm and angry, urging him back to the castle.

They didn't talk on their way back, the only communication was Snape's grip on Harry's collar making him feel like a little schoolboy and urging him to hurry up. The air around them was tense with mutual dislike and Snape's hatred was almost touchable, material, dark like the night. In the Entrance Hall he found himself thrown down to the floor and horrified, he struggled to get away from Snape who had his wand pointed at him. The Potion Master's face was paler than usual; his eyes colder and darker, as the tip of his wand touched Harry's forehead.

"If I could . . ." hissed Snape viciously, making Harry back away from him quickly. He had an evil expression in his face, which he had never seen before. Too dark, too evil, accompanied by a diabolical smile.

"Severus!"

Harry sighed in relief. Dumbledore stood at the staircase looking worried and puzzled. "What are you doing?"

Snape lowered his wand in obvious disappointment and turned to face the headmaster. "Headmaster, I suggest that Potter be punished for his misbehaviour. Not only did he leave Hogwarts without permission, but I also found him drinking alcohol in a bar. As it is, might I suggest . . ." he stopped in mid-sentence and his hand flew to clutch at his left forearm, cursing under his breath. Dumbledore hurried over to him.

"Is he calling you?" he exclaimed anxiously.

"Yes! Now when I have the pleasure to punish this insolent brat!" snapped Snape angrily and hurried to his dungeons closely followed by Dumbledore. Harry sighed in relief again and smiled broadly, hoping that Voldemort wouldn't be nice to Snape tonight. In his last vision he had questioned him mercilessly, opening his older wounds and Harry could tell that Snape wasn't yet healed. "Serves him right!" he whispered and grinned.

A/N: _What is Voldemort going to do to Snape? :-) We'll see in the next chapter, which you won't have to wait long for. I've already have it written, I just need to type it._

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter of Venomous: Majin Sakuko, Athena Keating-Thomas, melly, lucidity, narcissa-s, kara, Trinity of the phoenix, theMadHatter33 and Enahma. Thanks a lot.

Some of the answers to your questions are here:

lucidity: No, it's not death I fear most about Snape. I would be crying if he . . . I won't tell :-P But I think it's not that difficult to find out, many people are surely afraid of the same thing concerning Severus.

MajinSakuko: About Albus'/Albus's . . . I've found out my dear "little" grammar book and this is what Mr Quirk says about it (yes, both are correct). The "zero" genitive (Albus') is used in: Greek names (_Euripides'_), as a variant of the regular genitive with names ending in s (_Albus's/Albus'_) and with fixed expression of the form _for . . . sake_ as in _for goodness' sake_. Albus as a name comes from Roman language, I think. So you're a neighbour! :-) As an example of neighbourhood generosity, I've decided to use "" instead of ''. How nice of me, isn't it?


	2. Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

The first thing Severus could feel after having apparated to the Dark Lord was warmth. It enveloped him unexpectedly, confusing him. Death Eater meetings were most often held outside, under the night sky in dark cemeteries or old manors. Surprised, Severus's onyx eyes wandered around the spacious room. Why, this was the Lestranges' lavish living room in their castle! There he was in his black Death Eater robes and mask, summoned and yet alone. Dumbledore's worried face flashed in his mind as he had seen him grab his mask and leave. His sky blue eyes had followed him for as long as he hadn't disapparated. Snape pushed the memory back, clearing his mind and awaiting the Dark Lord's arrival. At that precise moment the well-known, icy inhuman voice spoke, "Have a seat, Severus."

From a shadow Lord Voldemort emerged, whole his countenance ghastly in the dying light coming from a fireplace. Snape kept a calm demeanour on the outside, though deep inside he shuddered at the sight, all his wounds screaming in terror. Power radiating from him was enormous, stronger and stronger by every passing day. As he approached him, Snape bowed his head politely. The dark wizard sat right next to him on a sofa, his skeletal fingers reaching out to the younger man's face. Even through the mask Severus could feel their chilliness. Tenderly, almost affectionately, Voldemort drew his hood back and pulled off his mask, soothing back the long ebony hair. His fingers traced Severus's cheeks and slowly turned his face to him.

"Look at me," came the command accompanied by a smile. Hesitating, as if wanting to postpone that moment, Snape's eyes rose to meet those of the Dark Lord. Colourless they were, only blood shone in them, blood of innocent Muggles, children and light wizards, murdered. One could die from simply looking into that never-ending sea of agony. However, the smile hadn't reached his eyes and Severus noticed a strange melancholy in them.

"There's a traitor among my ranks," spoke Voldemort hoarsely, his fingers caressing Snape's pale cheeks.

The Potions Master remained calm on the outside. If he had been suspected, he would have already been screaming somewhere else under Cruciatus Curse. Voldemort wouldn't been talking to him, unless . . . Studying his face closer made Severus cringe a bit. He was beginning to look better, less snake-like, some of his former handsome features and diabolical charm returning. Not good, not good, he was coming to his full powers, possibly acquiring more. And he could be toying with him or fooling him. Severus had never been fond of physical touch, rarely allowing someone to close and Voldemort was now in his personal space, touching him, making him nervous. Whatever his plans were, he knew he wouldn't like them.

"Whom would you suspect, Severus? I believe it has to be someone brave or foolish."

Voldemort's voice changed to a pleasant one, puzzling the already confused spy all the more.

"As far as I know, my Lord, we have no foolish Griffindor among us," replied Snape, forcing his voice into a polite tone. Voldemort's lips curled up in a smile again.

"No, Severus, a Griffindor would be loyal, at least most of them are, we will leave Pettigrew out of this. Brave or foolish, it's actually quite the same, do you agree?"

Snape nodded, wondering where this conversation was leading, and fighting his dark premonitions.

"And it must be someone clever or someone thinking to be clever enough to fool me. Someone with a mind of his own."

Voldemort's silken voice dropped to a whisper and Snape shivered when his hand went to his neck.

"Why do you tremble, Severus?" he breathed out as his chalk white face leaned closer to Snape's, "Tell Lord Voldemort."

"Your presence is overwhelming," whispered Severus, painfully aware of the cold fingers brushing his neck. He was too close. '_Get those hands off me! Let me be!'_

"My presence makes you uncomfortable. It that so, dear child? My touches make you nervous, I'm too close, far too close," went on the now alluring voice, while the thin fingers caressed Snape's neck and cheek, "You never let anyone this close, you cannot bear physical contact. You need your space. Your very **own** space."

Snape bit his lower lip nervously. What were the Dark Lord's intentions? He fought hard not to flinch under his skeletal fingers, but couldn't help himself not to stiffen. Those touched would drive him mad. He felt his heart beat wildly, blood loud in his ears. '_Do not touch me!'_

"You're different to my other Death Eaters. You need your own space. You have your own brain. You think on your own. You're an individualist. And . . . you see blood on my hands."

The whisper died away and Severus watched how Voldemort's hands enclosed his, tracing his long thin fingers. It was almost unreal that the Dark Lord's fingers were even thinner, longer and whiter than his were. Ghostly horrible.

"You, Severus, see blood on my hands and you question my actions. To question them means to think."

Voldemort held Severus's wrist tightly, preventing him to take his hand back. He pressed his fingertips to Snape's, forcing his fingers downward and out, measuring their hands. The spy trembled slightly and frowned, hoping this private meeting wouldn't cost his life.

"However," whispered the Dark Lord softly, "I see blood on your hands too, precious child."

Severus snatched his hand away and thrust it behind his back, lowering his eyes. Dark Lord's laughter echoed in his ears. He closed his eyes, desperately wishing that the mocking laughter would stop. _I see blood on your hands too. _Voldemort's hands moved back to his face and hair.

"Do you think that I have no idea who the traitor is? Dumbledore and Lupin came to save you, I know that. I bet you wonder why haven't I killed or tortured you right after you apparated?"

Still frowning, Snape raises his eyes to those of his master. "My Lord," he said, bringing out his acting skills to pretend that he was hurt by his words, "I would die for you, I would never betray you. Never!"

The Dark Lord said nothing. His dreadful red eyes bore into Snape's seeking the truth while his hands caressed his cheeks. Severus shuddered in disgust, desperate to get away from the unwelcomed touches. He was beginning to feel dizzy, his head spinning and wounds aching. When would they finally heal?

"Your mind doesn't betray you," hissed Voldemort, disappointed by his probing on Snape's guarded mind, "but I know you're a liar. What do you think, why am I not torturing you? Tell me, Severus."

"I do not know, master," replied Snape quietly.

"Because I know you, dear child."

The Potions Master's eyebrow rose a bit in puzzlement. Why was he toying with him? Was it some interlude to torture, a cruel game? Tenderly, Voldemort's thumb brushed his cheek, his lips and finally his eyelashes as if wanting to memorise his features. On a sudden impulse, Severus reached out and touched his white cheek. Warm, not icy like his fingers, the skin was human. The Dark Lord smiled,

"We're tearing you apart, me and that old fool. You're balancing between darkness and light. And you, Severus, are tempted by the dark."

At those words Severus jumped from his seat, away from Dark Lord's touches. He would never betray Albus Dumbledore! Voldemort watched with amusement the retreating younger man, who backed from him in obvious horror. '_Have I touched the nerve, Severus?_' he thought and leaned back leisurely.

Severus whipped out his wand. "Leave me alone!" he hissed venomously.

"You don't want to kill me, Severus. You would have done it already. Besides, **you** can't kill me."

A sneer appeared on Snape's pale lips. "Really?" he smirked and was about to cast some dark curse at the older wizard when another curse hit him from behind, knocking him to the ground as all his wounds began to burn. He gasped when the white-hot pain enveloped his body and heard Voldemort yell,

"Bloody woman! I told you not to hurt him! Was I speaking trollish that you didn't understand me? Be gone from my sight, Bella!"

Bellatrix Lestrange pouted, but without any words she left the room with her head bowed. To Severus's astonishment, Voldemort pulled him to stand up and supporting him, he led him upstairs to a tower where he laid him down onto a bed. More surprises followed when he started to remove his outer robes, slowly and carefully so as not to hurt him anymore. Severus flinched uncomfortably under his touches, trying to escape them, but the cold hands stilled him. The Dark Lord took his arm, removed the bandages, put his hand over the cuts and whispered an incantation. The wounds closed and healed, leaving no traces. "Only the one who inflicted them can heal them properly," he explained to Snape and proceeded to the other arm. "Tell me, Severus, why do you serve people who don't trust you and respect you?" he asked conversationally. "Do you like all those mudbloods, half-bloods and half-breds?"

"I serve only you, master," replied Snape, beginning to relax under the healing touches. He hadn't known that such a dark wizard like Voldemort had the healing power. How odd to see his hands healing and not punishing!

"Severus, Severus," sighed Voldemort deeply, "You yielded to the darkness once and you'll yield again. How can you resist? It's inside your heart. You have always been a child of darkness and as I'm the lord of darkness, you belong to me. But sleep now, my dark child, I need you to be strong."

He touched Snape's forehead lightly and despite the Potions Master's brief struggle, he put him to sleep.

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T.B.C.

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Author's notes: I wrote this some months ago for another story, but I thought I could combine that story with this one and see what comes out of it. This actual part "walked" into my mind during a journey to my university. I always try to do something in train. You're all wonderful! Thank you very much for your reviews! 

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Thank you very much and keep reviewing, your suggestions help me a lot. The next chapter is written too, but needs some revision, so I don't know when I'll put it online.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

After he had checked on some new prisoners, Voldemort settled into an armchair and watched the peacefully sleeping man thoughtfully. Severus lied on his back with his face turned to the Dark Lord and his left hand resting on the pillow close to his head. He wore his black Death Eater robe, but his sleeves had been rolled up, revealing the mark on his white forearm. Voldemort smiled proudly when he saw that no scar was marring that pale skin. Only a few people knew of his healing skills and he himself used them rarely. Healing could hardly mean power and thus it couldn't be a weapon. His weapon of choice was suffering, inflicting pain and humiliation. It meant power and this power attracted many people to his side, people who sought the same. Some, like Lucius Malfoy, were simply hungry for more and more; some needed it to protect themselves. Severus had been like that. He had wanted to assert his power over others so that they would have been hurt and not him. But in him there had always been more. He knew that suffering wasn't enough, that knowledge was more important.

"What more can you learn from Dumbledore, Severus?" asked Voldemort softly. "You need people to appreciate you and your work, that motivates you to go on, to learn more. But does Dumbledore appreciate your work? Does he permit you to study Dark Arts further? And the others on his side? Only I can give you fame and respect, dear child."

He reached out to touch Snape's temples, waking him up. Severus stirred slightly, but didn't open his eyes. Voldemort rolled his eyes and sighed. Snape had never been a morning person and to wake him up early usually required a lot of effort or patience. The Dark Lord, not an overly patient man, fought the urge to use Cruciatus, reminding himself that he wanted to gain him for his side. What a victory over Dumbledore would it be! No one, who had ever served him, could just leave him!

Instead of Cruciatus, Voldemort poked Snape into his ribs with his wand. The younger wizard swore and opened his eyes to find himself looking directly into the horrid red eyes of his captor.

"Language, Severus! Has no one taught you manners? I thought that the Malfoys did."

The Dark Lord leaned to Snape and brushed a strand of dark hair from his forehead. Severus flinched under the touch and backed away from it, glaring at Voldemort in distrust. "Do not touch me!" he hissed, looking around himself. Now that there was light, he could see what the room looked like. It was one of the chambers in the tower, the highest one in it, square, with ancient stone walls decorated by heavy green tapestries. Unless he could fly, he saw no way to get away from there without his wand.

Suddenly two white arms wrapped themselves around his waist from behind and Severus felt Voldemort pulling him closer to him. He breath brushed his neck and Snape shuddered in disgust when he heard the cold whisper in his ear,

"A teacher whom no one taught loyalty, isn't it touching? Where do your loyalties lie, Severus?""

"I have no other master but you, my Lord," replied Snape as calmly as he could.

"Tell me, dear child," spoke the Dark Lord softly, "if you could, if you had that choice, would you choose your father or Dumbledore to live?"

The deep black eyes widened at the unvoiced implications. Did that mean . . . was his father . . . impossible, he couldn't be . . . Severus shook his head as if attempting to clear his mind of such thoughts and Voldemort laughed dryly.

"Your treacherous father walked right into my arms."

The cold, calm demeanour of Snape broke like a fragile glass shattered by his anger. Something deep inside him exploded, turning his vision red as he turned to face Voldemort and struck the mocking white face of his captor. For a moment the dark wizard was looked astonished and Severus contemplated to hit him again, just to get some reaction. With his cheek stinging, Voldemort roared in fury, seized Snape's wrist and his fiery red eyes blazed up. He slammed the younger wizard to the floor who groaned quietly. Without any warning (though Snape knew what was to follow) except a slight movement of Dark Lord's wand and whispered "Crucio!", a wave of pain flooded his body. Snape clapped a shaking hand to his mouth and breathed hard through his nose, trying to keep silent.

Another wave of wand intensified the pain and Snape screamed, shutting his eyes tight. Voldemort smiled as he watched him struggling to get air into his lungs, which issued again in deep groans he couldn't hold back. The man had surprised him, he had never seen him attack anyone physically. How had he dared to hit him? He lifted the curse and knelt down, embracing the cold, shaking body of Snape. He looked closely into his dark eyes and checked his pulse, smiling gently.

"Why do you force me to hurt you, dear child?" asked Voldemort sadly, tenderly caressing Snape's pale cheek. "All I want is to talk to you, but you seek to anger me."

Snape's face was full of hatred when he glared at Voldemort. "I curse you!" he whispered, looking up at him in fury. "What the hell do you want from me? Why don't you kill me? Have you gone soft in your old age?"

Snape watched with satisfaction how the white cheeks of Voldemort reddened. He knew he was playing with fire, but Dark Lord's anger and curses and more bearable than his touches and mind games. All of a sudden, Voldemort hit him so hard he could literary see stars and while his head was spinning, he pinned him to the ground, squeezing his throat. Severus tried to get those claws off his neck and kick him away, struggling under Dark Lord's body. Sitting back, Voldemort pressed his wand to Snape's chest.

"Hands up!" he ordered and Severus slowly let his hands fall to the ground, moving them over his head.

"Are you aware of what I might do to you or your father?"

Severus nodded, beginning to feel fear replacing his anger. Voldemort's lips curled up in a sneering smile when he sensed it and slowly his wand started to trace the younger wizard's side of face and neck, delighting in a slight tremble that went through his body. Everyone feared him, even his Death Eaters, everyone except Dumbledore.

"If I decide to kill you . . ."

The wand's pressure on Snape's neck intensified. He did fear him.

" . . . I won't do it quickly."

The wand moved to Snape's heart.

"However . . ."

The Dark Lord's face came inches from Severus's who had closed his eyes.

"You might be useful to me."

His lips touched Severus's forehead.

"And . . ."

He kissed him lightly, fatherly.

"You're drawn to me. And therefore . . ."

He stood up, roughly pulled Snape to his feet and led him to a pair of armchairs. They sat down, facing each other.

"And therefore I would advise you not to provoke me. And stop lying to me, Severus. This is the time for truth telling. Remember that Quin is in my captivity."

Snape studied his face wordlessly, an expression of mild curiosity having settled on his face and a strange melancholy in his eyes.

"I take it that whatever I say, you'll still think of me as of a spy, master," said Severus quietly.

"No, dear child," corrected him Voldemort. "I **know** that you're a spy."

"But you don't want to kill me. Why would you forgive me? You'll never trust me."

Framing Severus's face in his cold hands, Voldemort brought him closer. "Open your mind to me."

"My mind isn't guarded, master."

"I told you to open your mind, not your mouth!" hissed the Dark Lord impatiently. "There's one memory I want to see right now before we continue. Legillimens!"

The glowing red eyes penetrated Snape's mind who let them see anything he thought safe to be seen. To his surprise, the Dark Lord went further, ignoring the memories of present, going far into the past. Severus repelled him and looked at him with his eyebrow raised in question.

"May I inquire as to what precisely are you looking for?"

He wanted to turn away, but Voldemort held his face tightly.

"Just one memory, dear child, you'll see. Let me in."

Severus let him see more 'safe' memories of his early adulthood when suddenly the Dark Lord found what he had been looking for . . .

. . . he was 25, half a year before Dark Lord's fall, standing in a forest and smiling coldly at a man piteously begging at his feet. He was pleading with him not to kill him, that he had a wife and a child. His bloodied body trembled in mortal fear, then froze when a flash of green light hit his square in the chest . . .

Snape gasped, turned away, and rested his forehead on his hand. Voldemort's lips almost touched his ear when he whispered, "You were a spy at that moment and yet you killed that man. And . . ." his bony finger lifted Snape's chin, forcing him to look at him. "And you enjoyed it, my precious child."

There was no answer but a frown from Snape.

"It doesn't matter who your master is, Severus. You haven't changed. You use the same means for both the light and dark side. If I were to tell you to cast Cruciatus on someone, you'd do it to keep your cover. And Neville Longbottom would tell us tales about what a sadistic, cruel teacher you are. You abuse your position, the power you have over your students. It is a wonder that Dumbledore lets you teach. And you want to persuade me that you're a light wizard, that you dark side's gone? You're no good man, Severus."

Severus stood up and began to pace slowly to and fro, thinking. There was a remarkable grace in his movements, which had impressed Voldemort long ago. Even when he just thrust a hand into his pocket, the gesture was elegant, though he was most elegant when killing. "You mean to tell me," he said, stopping in front of the Dark Lord, "to persuade me to be at your side and you want to use my father to ensure my loyalty? My Lord, I have to disappoint you. I have no one whom I would call a father."

'_Harry's more like a son to me!' _

With a smile Voldemort took Snape's hand. "No one? Shall we see, Severus? Come, come with me and persuade me that you're telling me the truth."

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_**Author's note: **I couldn't up-dated this earlier, I was in pain lately, my back was killing me. Fortunately it's much better today after a rest and some medicine. For all those who asked – no, this story is not a slash story. What Voldemort is doing is only a bit of acting and playing with Snape's mind, he wants to make him nervous and uncomfortable, that's all. However, he doesn't always have patience for this game . . ._

_A huge thanks to all my reviewers, you're amazing! Big hugs to all of you! I'll try to up-date this every week, okay:-) _


	4. Chapter Four

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Chapter Four

Severus let himself be led, not trying to free his hand from Voldemort's. Why hadn't his father listened to him? No, he had had to leave Hogwarts and got himself caught! As if he didn't want him only well, no, he hadn't listened! And Snape knew that whatever condition his father was in, he couldn't show his emotions, nor could he help him. The Dark Lord would certainly want information in exchange for his life. _Would you choose your father or Dumbledore to live? _Two faces flashed in his mind. His father or Dumbledore? But the right question was – the Order or his father? Lost deep in thoughts, Snape almost bumped into Voldemort's back when he stopped and opened the door to a dark, earthy cell. The Dark Lord put his arm around Snape's thin shoulders and entered with him.

When his eyes got accustomed to the darkness, Severus noticed several prisoners on the dirty ground, two of them being in dim light – his father, bruised and unconscious, and a young man whom he recognised as a healer from Hogsmeade. Bellatrix Lestrange was leaning leisurely against the wall, fingering her wand and smiling contentedly. Though he could barely keep himself conscious, the young healer's gaze was filled with hatred and defiance. Bellatrix poked Tarquinius's unmoving form with her feet glad in elegant silver sandals and he moaned as their pointed front connected with his ribs not too gently. She laughed quietly and watched with amusement how he attempted to sit. His hands shook uncontrollably when he tried to support himself and finally he succeeded in his task and seated himself against the wall. His eyes were rising slowly, taking in the black shoes, black robe and then black eyes of his son. Severus's face remained cold and detached as if Tarquinius was someone he had never seen before. His dark eyes glittered in the badly lit cell and showed nothing of his soul.

"You said you have no one you can call a father," spoke Voldemort softly, observing how Tarquinius flinched and how his grey eyes betrayed his hurt. He looked at Severus whose face showed no sign of interest and met his gaze unflinchingly.

"I assure you, my Lord, that this man I hardly consider my father," said Snape smoothly, looking at Tarquinius with an expression of complete indifference. "As it is, he has already found himself another son."

Tarquinius's face turned red as his heart began to pump faster. "Bastard!" he roared.

Snape gave him one of his trademark sneering smiles, narrowing his eyes malevolently. Voldemort laughed, moving to stand behind him. "Such a touching family reunion!" he whispered into Snape's ear and his long-fingered white hand brushed the raven hair from Severus's neck. Panic was beginning to rise in Snape's chest as the Dark Lord spoke aloud, "But we'll see whether you consider him a father or not."

Bellatrix licked her lips in anticipation and pressed her want to Tarquinius's throat.

"Unless you do what I order you to, he'll be cursed."

Ignoring the Dark Lord's closeness as much as he could, Severus surveyed his father through narrowed eyes. How much would he be able to take?

"Sev, don't . . ." pleaded Tarquinius quietly, but a gesture from Dark Lord cut the sentence and he screamed under Bellatrix's powerful Cruciatus. He fell to the floor, writhing and crying in agony.

Although he had flinched, Severus regained his calmness, watching the trembling figure of his father without any visible emotions. How much could he bear? How much could his mind bear?

Bellatrix frowned at him, lifted the curse off the groaning man and looked questioningly at the dark wizard. Voldemort grabbed Snape's arm and spun him around to face him. "My, my," he hissed through his clenched teeth, "Are you truly this cold or are you acting?"

He shook him violently several times as if wanting to shake the answers out of him. "You're a good little liar, aren't you? I advise you not defy me, Severus. Now together, Bella!"

Both Voldemort and Bellatrix pointed their wands at Tarquinius who shrieked under the double Cruciatus. His screams filled the small cell, echoing loudly and Severus found himself unable to act any further. Blood started to flow from Tarquinius's mouth and Severus backed from him in horror. His hands flew to his ears and knowing that his father wouldn't stand much, he cried out, "Stop it!"

Only Voldemort stopped, smiling in triumph, when he noticed how deadly pale Severus had become. The younger wizard threw himself to his feet, clutching at his robes and pleading earnestly, "Stop it, you'll kill him! I beg you, master . . . his sanity . . . don't torture him . . ."

Severus's voice broke when the screams weren't stopping. Why didn't he make Bellatrix lift the damned curse? Every scream was sharper than the one before, stabbing his heart brutally while Tarquinius trashed on the ground. What more did the Dark Lord expect from him? He was down on his knees, pleading with him . . .

"Please, I beg you!" cried Snape desperately.

But Voldemort was enjoying himself greatly, the pleasure of being dominant flooding his veins sweetly, making him feel alive again. He reached out to Snape, wiping away a lone tear and stroking his hair. _'Beg more, dear child.' _How delightful to have the proud Potions Master kneeling before him! It made him feel powerful; it was a filling feeling, strong and almost frightening, yet utterly delicious. Tarquinius's shrieks were music in his ears and a precious instrument to Severus's heart. Oh, he did know his heart well! He had known him already as a baby, had woven a net of darkness around him since his cradle. And the coldness inside the unloved child had welcomed it, had embraced it tightly. Severus had always been his.

He smiled proudly at seeing Snape's white face and widened eyes. He gestured to Bellatrix and the screams vanished, leaving Tarquinius panting heavily. Severus's heart was beating wildly in his constricted chest and he gasped, struggling to breathe normally. He didn't want to think about what might follow. The white hand of the Dark Lord caressed his cheek and his thumb brushed his lips, not drawing back. For a moment Severus hesitated thinking about Dumbledore, then bent to kiss the hand lightly.

"Thank you, master," he murmured, guessing what would he want from him now. Information?

"Stand up, Severus."

Severus obeyed and rose to his feet, facing the Dark Lord. Slowly he was turned around and the white arms came circling his waist, embracing him and Voldemort whispered his wish, "Kill the healer. Just kill him. Use your dark powers, your coldness. Do it, quickly, do not hesitate."

Tarquinius had no strength or voice to protest and the healer was shocked into silence after he had watched Bellatrix' Cruciatus and Snape's pleas. Unable to do anything, he only looked into the dark eyes of Dumbledore's spy.

"Do it, Severus. Two words, fast death, clean, no pain . . ."

The dark eyes were devoid of any feeling. Distancing himself from the man, Severus pointed his wand at the healer and took a deep breath, hesitating. Why the healer? He was torn between gratitude that it wasn't his father and assumption that Voldemort could use him again later. But the choice – his father or the healer – was simpler. No pain, no suffering, fast death, good death.

"Avada Kedavra," he said, his voice smooth and expressionless. Tarquinius closed his eyes when the green light filled the dungeon. Severus's eyes, on the other hand, were wide open as the curse shot from his wand and hit the healer straight into his chest. For a tiny flicker of time he froze, staring at his murderer, while his eyes lost their light and he collapsed to the floor dead. In the silence that followed, falling wand hit the ground noisily and Severus buried his face in his hands after he had thrown his wand away. The feeling that struck him after releasing the curse was power; pure sweet power based on the ability to take life using magic. He fought with it, unwilling to yield. _'Dumbledore, remember Dumbledore!'_ he was telling himself, picturing the headmaster's kind face, but instead Moody's came to his mind and faces of others, shaking their heads and telling him, '_We knew it, Snape!' _And Sirius Black laughed, _'An improved Death Eater? I knew not to trust you!'_

"Very well, Severus, well done," whispered the Dark Lord, his arms around his waist supporting him. "Isn't this better than terrorising students? Bella, be sure to give Mr Snape as much water to drink as he wishes. He must be thirsty from all that screaming."

Severus looked at his father who returned the look; his icy grey eyes mirrors of his condemnation, making him shiver. Often had he been looking at him in this way when he had followed Dark Lord's orders. Bellatrix put a glass of water to his lips, but Tarquinius turned his head and said in a hoarse voice, "I want no such water."

His robes whirling, Severus spun around and bolted out of the cell, not knowing where he run, but he did, running up the stairs, higher and higher, taking no notice of his blurry surroundings. The elegant black robes billowed behind him as he run, resembling a dark ghost unable to find his way to the other world. "Stop him!" cried the Dark Lord and Severus sensed fear in his voice. Fear, worry, and surprise? Hands brushed his robes, but none were quick enough to catch him. Running away from his own consciousness, he was faster than anyone else was. Higher and higher, to the highest terrace, he ran for his death. It had been a good idea of his father when he had attempted to kill them both. He deserved to die; he was nothing more than a murder. Again. He was afraid that having his father in his hands, Voldemort would force him to do anything. Finally he reached the terrace, but all his hopes were shattered when someone caught him. A man jumped at him and together they fell hard to the floor. When the man pinned him to the ground, Snape ceased struggling and stared up at him, feeling dread wash over him.

"Good morning, professor," grinned the man at Snape, "What did you want to do?"

The one who had stopped him was no man and Snape knew well what kind of a dark creature he was – a vampire, holding his wrists down in a painful grip, his eyes shining in hunger. "Let go of me, you filthy . . ."

The vampire clapped a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. "Now, now, professor, you don't want to finish that sentence. As much as I would love you to be my dinner, do be polite, the Dark Lord wants you alive. Pity for me, but if you ever anger me, I can't promise to control my nature and forget his orders."

He seized Snape's wrists even tighter and pulled him to his feet. "Now let us return to your tower, I believe you have some thinking to do, dear professor."

**__**

Author's notes: My internet connection isn't working well, I hope I manage to put this chapter online. I've made Snape kill someone . . . hides from the reviewers My sister said I should have made him kill Tarquinius, but he's a pretty useful tool in Voldemort's hands, can't get rid of him so soon. In the next chapter there won't be Severus, only Dumbledore and some others.

One question. If I kill someone, is GP-13 rating enough? Isn't it too violent for that? I don't know much for these ratings, we use other system, so tell me what you think about it.

Thank you very much for reviews, they're truly appreciated.


	5. Chapter Five

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I haven't got time to up-date sooner, but here is the next chapter. I know I said that this would be about Dumbledore, but I've decided against it. When I wrote it, it seemed boring, so I've decided to use only his dialogue with Moody (italics) which Snape saw in a Pensieve. Hope you'll like it.

Chapter Five

The soft silver light coming from a Pensieve illuminated the darkening room in tower, changing the two men into dark shadows. One of them was lying on a bed with his back turned to the other who sat there, watching him silently. The younger of them, Severus Snape, was clutching a pillow tightly to his chest as if it was his only hope to save him from drowning. His long raven hair lay sprawled on another pillow, strikingly black against the older man's white hand. A dreadful feeling of pain had crept over him to torment his soul and it radiated from every cell of is body, making the hand tremble. Many times it had reached out to touch him, but had always drawn back as if scared of the man's pain.

Had he been younger, a child, he would have hidden under the bed to cry. Snivellus would have cried himself to sleep, but Severus was too numb to shed a tear, too empty. He wished he could feel more, he wanted to, more to torture and punish him. Life had suddenly become too hideous a burden and he had run, unable to bear it. After the initial shock and guilt, calmness had settled onto him again and he could think clearly. What he had seen in the Pensieve brought more pain and numbness, but nothing else. Lost felt he, drowning, and the only one who has offered to help him was the darkest wizard alive.

Snape pressed his mouth into a tight line when the hesitant fingers touched his hair. He sucked in a sharp breath and a shiver run down his spine. Why was he touching him again? If only he could leave him alone with his pain! Solitude was what he needed for survival. Lost, his head in turmoil and yet empty, he felt he had no will, he was exhausted.

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You shouldn't have trusted a Death Eater, Albus! Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. Don't you remember how he said he wasn't strong enough? Snape's just a bloody traitor, a snake shedding his skin!

In the Pensieve he had seen Dumbledore, Moody and Lupin standing around the dead healer's body. Seeing Dumbledore crying had been one of the worst things he ever experienced. And Moody had been right; he was a traitor, a traitor of both sides. Never really had he belonged somewhere. As if his heart was beating itself to death in some empty hollow, that's how it felt. And that young man . . . so young and innocent! Had he been his student once?

The fingers stroked his hair tenderly in a mock imitation of fatherly touch, preventing him to think coherently.

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No, Alastor, Severus wouldn't . . . he . . . no . . . I know him!

Dumbledore had wept, he had fallen to his knees, trembling and crying. Snape couldn't cry.

"I feel pain," whispered Severus into the pillow, aware of coldness enveloping him. The disturbing fingers entangled themselves in his hair, massaging his scalp slowly. Despite his dislike of physical contact, this touch was rather pleasant and soothing, not tormenting. There were times when he allowed it, even needed it, but only certain people were given that privilege and Voldemort wasn't one of them.

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He's never been completely out of dark, Albus. Just look at his teaching methods, his continuous obsession with Dark Arts, and his friendship with Malfoy! He killed this boy! And look what Voldemort wrote – 'there's no suitable words to express my gratitude for sending back my Severus'. He says **my** Severus! 'I highly appreciate his skills in Dark Arts and Potions . . .' He doesn't even seem like punishing him, Albus! That means Snape's been all this time on his side, fooling us!

"Let me ease your pain," spoke Voldemort softly and put his arm around Snape, pulling him close to his chest. He recoiled, filled with disgust and the Dark Lord smiled.

"Don't be afraid of me, Severus."

Behind his smile there was a promise that he knew great things or terrible things and Severus found himself studying him with a detached fascination. How could he know that the memories in the Pensieve were real? The Dark Lord could have made them up to persuade him. But . . . The sound of his wand breaking was still haunting his mind, Dumbledore had broken it. Did he hate him now? Was he capable of hatred? Perhaps he had never known the real Snape, hadn't allowed himself to accept he had a dark side.

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Severus, why?

He was beginning to feel cold and dizzy, drained.

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I've contacted the Aurors, Albus. Some went to search the Snape Manor; some are on their way to school. Dawlish is coming too. As for Snape, I promise that the bastard will pay.

Severus winced when he remembered the grief transforming into wrath in Dumbledore's face. Voldemort pulled him into an embrace again, rubbing his back. Not finding it comfortable at all, Snape attempted to draw away, but was held tightly.

"You're so tense, my child," whispered Voldemort, "and dreadfully thin," he added, feeling the bones under Snape's skin and clothes. "Delicate, one would say, but oh so murderous!"

A look of pity came into the dark eyes and freeing himself from the embrace, Severus stretched out his slender hand, waving it in front of Voldemort's face like a ballet dancer. "So I am, my Lord. We'll be in hell together. Can you imagine what does it look like?"

Something flickered in Voldemort's eyes and Snape leaned closer to him, inspecting him. In his soft, silken voice he sneered, "I've lived in hell for most of my life. What about you? I believe you know very well what hell is, master. You know what awaits you there."

Sensing something in the Dark Lord he had never before experienced in him, Snape touched his cheek lightly. "You're so very afraid of death, aren't you? What else do you fear?"

He felt the skin beneath his fingers stiffen. "Suffering? No, it must be a lack of power, lack of control. What about being helpless?"

Much to his surprise, the Dark Lord's face became ghastly white as he snatched Snape's hand, making him cringe in pain. Severus's black eyes widened, terror swept his courage away when he saw Voldemort's intense anger. Bloody hell, what was he thinking? Looking for Voldemort's inner demons? Helplessness! He knew he had touched a nerve, obviously something to do with his past. The Dark Lord must have known how it felt to be helpless, his eyes were telling him that and Severus instinctively knew they weren't lying. Gasping for air, the roar of blood deafening in his ears, Snape shuddered in fear.

An icy smile spread Voldemort's pale lips. "That is none of your business, Severus!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Come, you need a walk."

He pulled the wary Potions Master to his feet and dragged him out of the room, outside to the garden. Severus didn't protest, relieved that the Dark Lord had chosen not to give in to his rage and hoping he didn't plan on feeding him to some evil plant. One could expect anything but harmless roses from Bellatrix Lestrange's garden. Abruptly, Voldemort halted, turned to him and gripped his arms just below the shoulders.

"Severus, we have more in common than you think, that's why I understand you so well," he said in a stern voice and shook him once. "But never try to dig in my past, I'm no more who I used to be then, it has no relevance to me. However, if you try to be clever with me again, I warn you, I will be forced to punish you."

Severus nodded in agreement and absentmindedly reached out to stroke a beautiful white rose. Sadly he smiled at the flower.

"I thought you wanted to punish me right here."

"I can control my emotions."

"Yes," sighed Severus, enthralled by the beauty of the rose. He couldn't take his eyes off it; he admired the perfect whiteness of its petals and their delicate scent. "You also have my father. You have me in your captivity. You made me a murderer again, however, for that I'm equally responsible."

His voice was low and melancholic as he continued stroking the rose, "My father is disappointed in me again, he thinks me weak. Dumbledore is disappointed too. If I ever run away from you, where will I go? Aurors will lead me straight for a Dementor's Kiss. If I stay here, who among the Death Eaters will trust me? I'm a traitor of both sides. I betrayed you, the Death Eaters, Dumbledore, my father, me . . . This rose is strange."

Voldemort looked at the white rose under Snape's hand and shrugged, ignoring his previous words, "Seems normal to me, don't be paranoid, just a . . . Severus!"

All of a sudden, the rose bit into Snape's hand like a snake, hissing loudly. Although Voldemort grabbed Snape and pulled him away from the flower, it was too late. Severus's hand was swelling as if bitten by a venomous insect and if he hadn't been supported, he would have fallen to the ground. A wave of dizziness overcome him, the garden began to tilt and then to float. All the flowers mingled into a hot, pulsing blur and closing his eyes, Severus collapsed into Voldemort's arms. No longer was he aware of his surroundings, he didn't feel the Dark Lord pick him up and didn't hear him swear and threaten Bellatrix.

"Bella! Bella! Come here at once, you brainless gardener or I'll melt your bones, one by one!"

No one seemed to hear him, so he rushed back to the castle, cursing under his breath. "Why in the name of Salazar did I have to make him kill the healer?"

TBC

§§

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Author's notes: The weather has finally improved, so I'll be probably spending more time outdoors, meaning that sometimes I won't be able to update every week (but I'll do my best to up-date frequently). Thank you very much for your reviews!


	6. Chapter Six

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Chapter Six

"Wake up, my Lord," whispered Bellatrix softly and hesitating, she touched Voldemort's shoulder lightly. Sitting on the ground and half lying on bed must have been uncomfortable, and indeed he groaned in discomfort when he opened his eyes. Stretching out his stiffened muscles, he groaned again and glanced at the man in the bed. He could tell that there was no change, Severus was burning in fever, his breathing ragged and shallow. At his feet Nagini slept, huge and motionless. Voldemort gently touched Snape's forehead and startled at how hot it felt while Severus tossed on the bed, trying to escape the touch. Slowly he turned his head to the side and moved his hand, searching for something, someone to hold onto and when he found the Dark Lord's fingers, he grasped them weakly.

Voldemort smiled at the sight of their entangled fingers and pressed a cool, wet cloth to Severus's forehead. "What do you want, Bella? I told you to help Arenwald with brewing the antidote!"

Though his tone was icy, no longer was he angry. In the end the poisonous little rose may be valuable; Severus was holding onto him like a desperate, vulnerable child. He should have poisoned him earlier and then took care of him like Severus's father had never done, to persuade him that he thought him special, important, that he was valued. A sly smile illuminated his ghastly face as he leaned closer to him and whispered, "I'm with you, dear child, never fear."

A low groan escaped from Snape's parted lips followed by a weak sight, "Albus."

The Dark Lord frowned, longing for cursing him, but instead he took a deep breath, regaining his calmness. Severus could be calling for Dumbledore, but it was his hand he had grasped for comfort.

"Why don't you just kill him, master? Why do you want to save this bloody traitor?" asked Bellatrix angrily.

"Don't question me, Bella!" hissed Voldemort, "Why aren't you helping Arenwald as I told you?"

"The vampire," she spat in disgust, "sends you this potion and says that it takes longer than he previously thought to brew the antidote. Strong poison, you know . . . But this potion should strengthen his immune system and help him to live through the night. I believe he would not survive it without this."

Irritated, Voldemort snatched the vial from her hand and glared at her menacingly, "How can someone be so idiotic as to grow such stupid roses without having the proper antidote at hand?"

Bellatrix blushed and bowed her head, leaving the room quickly. She felt his gaze on her back, following her to the door where she stopped and whirled around to meet his fiery red eyes before leaving. "If he dies," he smirked, "I'll bury you alive with him. Therefore I advise you to help with the antidote as much as you can, I would loathe to be rid of you so soon."

She left hurriedly and Voldemort laughed quietly, running his fingers through Snape's raven hair. Severus shook his head weakly, breathing out the hated name again, "Albus."

"Why do you think that Dumbledore cares, dear Severus?" asked Voldemort softly, watching how the dark eyes opened. They were looking at him hauntingly, filled with sorrow and pain, and he wasn't sure whether Severus was aware of his surroundings or was caught in a web of feverish nightmares. Either way, his mind was at its most vulnerable point – unguarded and weakened by poison. A perfect moment to . . . There was no way that Severus could fight him in such a weakened state. Pulling out his wand and looking deeply into the dark eyes, Voldemort uttered the spell, "Legillimens!"

Snape winced and gasped when his hidden old memories were uncovered.

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There he was – a young Death Eater, recently turned to light, kneeling in front of the Dark Lord and hoping he wouldn't notice the change . . .

Dumbledore, sitting in his office, was listening intently. "He wants the Potters, he'll kill them."

Concentrating hard, Voldemort pushed further. More recent memories, those he wanted – Order headquarters, its members, their plans . . . To his surprise, Severus began to fight, attempting to push him away. The Dark Lord let him struggle in order to be drained even more, and be too exhausted to hid anything from him. He was holding the spell, never letting go, witnessing various "safe" memories in quick succession. Tears sprang to Snape's eyes and he pushed further, penetrating his mind with brutal force, making the weakened wizard cry out in pain.

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A dark kitchen . . . long table and Dumbledore talking . . . Lupin, McGonagall, Moody, Tonks, the Weasleys . . .

The Dark Lord laughed in triumph. When the onyx eyes began to glitter with unshed tears, he gathered Severus to himself, stroking his hair tenderly and rocking him slightly. How foolish of Dumbledore to trust a spy and let him into the meetings! But the feverish wizard in his arms was making him worried. This was not his time to die, not before he finished everything he had planned for him. Worried by the heat coming from Severus's body, he run his hands over his back, murmuring incantations to cool him down. Then he forced the potion down his throat and after a coughing fit, Severus collapsed against him. Voldemort felt his body yield and alarmed, he scanned him for any unwelcomed reaction to the potion. Fortunately Severus had only fallen asleep, exhausted from the high fever and struggle with legillimency as well as from the potion's calming effect.

Voldemort lay him back onto the bed, rolled up the left sleeve of his black satin pyjamas and touched a finger to his Dark Mark. Severus groaned in his sleep and cringed against the sudden pain, but didn't wake up. "I think it's time to send another message to Dumbledore. What do you think, Severus? Seems like some people don't know it's dangerous to go against me. I wonder when do they learn that the power is in my hands?"

Nagini hissed in agreement and slid towards the sleeping Potions Master, entwining his arm. After the Dark Lord had left, she rested her head against Snape's chest and watched him, ready to prevent any attempt of escape.

§§

Harry screamed and jumped out of his bed, falling heavily onto the floor. In a vision he had just seen . . . No, it couldn't have been a vision, it had only been a bad dream, nothing more, nothing . . . Yes, he had eaten too much before going to bed, that was it. But . . . not only had he seen an attack by Death Eaters, Voldemort had also spoken to him. He had laughed and his words "_Say hello to Dumbledore from Severus_" had frozen him to the marrow of his bones. Snape . . . Snape couldn't . . . But why not? He had killed that healer, hadn't he? Frustrated, Harry hit the floor with his fist, shaking in helpless anger.

A voice startled him from his thoughts, "What happened?"

The teen looked into the tired face of his former teacher. Remus Lupin, on Dumbledore's orders, had taken him to the Grimmauld Place after Snape's disappearance. As much as they both hated the house, the Fidelius Charm kept it safe. No one dared to think of what Snape might do if he had really turned back to Voldemort. Harry didn't know what to think about it as everyone held a different opinion. Dumbledore mourned at Hogwarts as if someone had died, communicating with Moody only. Hagrid pitied "the boy" for being "swallowed by darkness". Moody, though he had never trusted the Potions Master, wasn't glad that his words came true. Tonks was furious, the young healer, Tony, had been her schoolmate. Lupin, on the other hand, reacted differently than the others. Harry looked into his eyes and found them sorrowful again.

"Was it a vision, Harry?" asked the werewolf in a quivering voice.

"Yes, professor . . . I . . . I saw Voldemort and he told me . . . to . . . to say hello to Dumbledore from Snape as if giving him a message . . ." Harry trembled, remembering what the message had been, feeling the heat of its flames.

"What was the message?"

"The Burrow!" cried out Harry, "The Death Eaters attacked the house, burned it down! Snape must have given the Weasleys away to Voldemort!"

Not able to continue, Harry buried his face in his hands, sobbing. What did he care that he was crying in front of his teacher, the Burrow was probably nothing but ashes by now! Voldemort's frosty laughter was ringing in his ears and although never had he heard Snape laugh, he could easily imagine him laughing with him. It sent shivers down his spine and he shuddered, picturing the two together – the traitor and his master – laughing while the home of his best friend was swallowed by fire. "I hate him," he sobbed.

One day – and that day would come – he would have his revenge on the traitor. No mercy would he show, he promised to himself. Snape would pay for everything – in his blood.

Remus bowed his head, saddened by Harry's grief and words, hiding his own tears. However, Harry's misery didn't have such a great impact upon him as Snape's or rather Voldemort's "message". He had never been a friend of Snape, though when they had met at Hogwarts after many years, he had been willing to forget their old enmities. Deep inside his heart he felt that what was happening was far more serious than a betrayal. Tarquinius hadn't been seen since Snape's disappearance and that, in Remus's eyes, meant a disaster for both Snape and the Order. The only person Severus would never betray was his father and Remus didn't want to think of the consequences if he was in Voldemort's hands too. Chewing his lips nervously, he rushed to contact the headmaster.

Great was his surprise when he found Moody sitting in the kitchen, deadly pale and visibly exhausted. Without a word he sank into a chair, trembling in anxiety. A heavy sigh came from the former Auror who nodded gravely, confirming Lupin's deepest fears. "Snape. He gave out the Weasleys."

Remus gasped in horror, closing his eyes tight, and heard Moody spit the word, "Traitor!"

§§

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Author's note: This chapter is probably shorter then usual . . . I do hope that there aren't too many typos, because I don't know what's wrong with me today, but I keep on confusing the simplest English words. For example, I wrote "bad" instead of "bed" or "a coughing git" instead of "a coughing fit". Thank you very much for your reviews, I love you all, they're truly encouraging.


	7. Chapter Seven

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Chapter Seven

Like a wide river, pain had flooded every muscle in his body and he knew he didn't want to feel it. After everything he had gone through, he still clang to life, he didn't want to die. His mind wasn't peaceful enough to accept death, to him death meant facing hell possibly far worse that the one he was in, hell in which every sin of his would be punished. Once again he had done something dreadful, through as hard as he tried, he couldn't recover it in his mind. What had he done? Some vague memory was plaguing his mind, but he couldn't clear it to see what it had been. Everything was clouded by pain, he breathed it in and out, it was almost material in the air around him, burning him.

He moaned, desperate to get away from the fire eating his weakened body. Unable to sleep and tortured with thirst, Severus struggled to push away the darkness in his mind and to open his eyes to light. Deliciously cold fingers stroked his hair and settled gently on his forehead. They felt like heaven, a salvation from pain and fire tormenting him. Who was touching him? The hand soothed back his dark hair so tenderly that Severus almost wept, delighted by the fact that there was someone taking care of him. Despite all his failures, somebody thought him worthy of attention.

Slowly his head was lifted and a cool glass touched his lips. Severus drank greedily, savouring the liquid and trying not to laugh with delight, tears of relief falling from his closed eyes. Then another glass was offered to him and he drank thankfully again, enjoying the sweet taste of cool water. He let himself be settled back onto the pillows and for once didn't mind the touches of fingers on his face. Everything cold to ease the pain and fire of his body was most welcomed.

Voices around him were hushed, feet trading softly so as not to disturb him. Severus reached into his hair tangled from tossing in fever and groaned. Such a simple movement and how much it hurt! As if his muscles were attacked by Cruciatus Curse, that's how it felt. He managed to half open his eyes to see a blurry white face in which something red glowed. With a fearful gasp he shut his eyes tight against the red gaze. He had lost control the last time those eyes had looked at him, they had reached deep inside his eyes and he . . . he had failed. A horrid white face flashed in his mind. It was a face of power, a strange mixture of ugliness and of something handsome, a face of someone inhuman.

Severus moaned, shaking his head in an attempt to chase away that picture. The face transformed into another - that of a head of dishevelled black hair and mocking grey eyes. _'Traitorous snake!' _laughed Sirius Black and Severus quickly turned his head away. But the laughter stayed, ringing in his ears like church's bells and another face was there, scowling him, the cold grey eyes devoid of any feelings but disappointment. Severus let out a quiet sob, not knowing where to turn to avoid the faces hovering above him. "No, no," he pleaded, seeing a huge man moving towards him with his fists raised, "No!" he screamed.

Voldemort pressed the wildly trashing wizards further into the soft pillows, restraining his arms. Severus cried out weakly, causing a frown to appear on the Dark Lord's white forehead. He was beginning to be worried and didn't want Snape dead, not before finishing with his plans. Why wasn't the antidote working? Puzzled, he sent a murderous glare at Arenwald and Bellatrix who were watching him from a respectful distance.

"The poison has travelled deep into his system, my Lord," spoke the vampire quietly, "This particular poison causes high fever first with hallucinations, pain in muscles followed by the collapse of inner organs which eventually leads to death."

"I won't allow him to die!" cried Voldemort angrily, making Severus flinch from the sharp tone.

"There's hope that the antidote will work, master, I strongly believe that despite the fever, his hallucinations aren't yet that strong. Sometimes he seems to be aware of his surroundings. However," the vampire fell quiet, carefully measuring his words, "if necessary, I can . . . gift him with immortality."

The look that Voldemort addressed him was murderous. "You won't touch what is mine, Arnold."

With great reluctance the vampire averted his gaze from the exposed soft, warm skin of Severus's neck, frowning at the name the Dark Lord had used. Eager to get back into Dark Lord's favour, Bellatrix took Snape's bandaged hand into hers. "Snape is strong, master, he'll survive. Is there anything I can do?"

No response came from the dark wizard who was watching Severus with concern. Why was he suddenly so still? No, he definitely didn't like him being all of a sudden so motionless and pale. Although Severus had always been pale, he was white like a sheet now. Nagini slid into the bed, sensing that something was wrong. _What'sss the matter?_ hissed Voldemort, asking his pet snake. Alarmed, he touched the side of Severus's neck, finding only a faint pulse, which was getting weaker and weaker. No, Severus was not going to die, not unless he would wish him to go!

"He's very weak," murmured Voldemort while caressing Snape's cheek tenderly, "You must fight, dear child, you must find the strength in you."

He gathered the limp body of Severus Snape into his arms, guiding his head to rest in the crook of his neck. "I'm here with you, child," he whispered into his ear. Closing his eyes, he recalled an ancient incantation half-forgotten in his mind and murmured its words quietly. Deep inside himself he felt something powerful rise and he let it go out of him, through his hands into Severus.

Bellatrix's eyes opened widely when she saw a blue mist envelop her master and Snape, sparkling like precious diamonds and slowly disappearing into the Potions Master. Seeing the question in his yes, Voldemort smiled and answered, "There're cases when light magic is more powerful than dark. I've given him some strength from mine. Actually," he tilted Severus's face up to look at him, "I believe that I've just saved his life," he laughed and Bellatrix joined him, glad that Snape would live and hopefully her rose would be forgotten.

§§

"Moody, Severus is in a very bad situation, it can hardly be his fault," said Remus quietly. Mad-Eye Moody took a sip from his bottle, leaned back into the chair and eyes Lupin incredulously.

"You're thinking about Tarquin, aren't you?" he asked. "He's gone missing on the same day that Snape was summoned. If it's as you think, then I'm afraid that Snape would do anything to protect his father."

"So . . . so you believe that Tarquinius is in Voldemort's hands too?"

Moody nodded. "Yes, but it doesn't change the fact that Snape is a traitor."

Remus jumped from his seat. "He has no other choice!" he called passionately, surprising even himself. Since when did he care for that nasty git? Snape had never shown any sign of respect for him, he had always done everything to get him expelled from school as well as to get him leave the school when he had been teaching.

"The choice is always here, Remus!" rose Moody's tone too.

"What choice?" cried the werewolf, "To sacrifice his father? How can you **_that_** call a choice?"

"What about sacrificing himself?" stood up Moody, knocking backwards his chair. "He could have killed himself! But no, Slytherins are survivors; they would do anything to save their necks! No, no, Snape will spill all the information just to save his skin!" yelled the former Auror furiously; "He's never really been on any side but his own!"

Pacing the floor, Remus was slowly getting angry. He stopped in front of Moody, jabbing the Auror's chest with his finger. "And why," he asked in a quiet, dangerous tone, "should he give his life for people like you? For people who have never treated him with respect, never trusted him, never appreciated what he was doing for us?"

"It's not about us, Lupin! He should have done it for the light and for himself. He didn't betray only us, he betrayed himself too!" shouted Moody, furious now more at Lupin than Snape. Remus shouted back,

"What an idiot you are!"

"Stop it, the both of you!" thundered another voice and both men spun around to see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing in the doorframe. The usually calm and patient wizard appeared fuming in anger.

"What do you think you're doing? We can't afford to be split; we have to hold together! Voldemort would be overjoyed to see you like this!"

A snort came from Moody. "We should never have trusted Snape!"

"Snape did a lot for the Order," objected Shacklebolt, "Both of you are right in some things, but try to work together. We can't afford any quarrels here!"

"What do you have there?" asked Remus and pointed at something which looked like a shrunk trunk.

Kingsley put the little trunk on the table and enlarged it to its normal size. "The Aurors have been ordered to search the Snape Manor. I've managed to save some things Snape wouldn't like to see in the Ministry's hands. Personal items mostly, it's none of their business to dig into someone's private life."

Having heard the loud voices, Harry had crept into the kitchen and was now looking at the trunk, curious to see what was in it. Kingsley smiled at him warmly,

"Nothing that would interest you, Harry, is here. When we were searching the manor and breaking the wards, I was lucky to break one ward guarding these things, so I've collected them quickly. It's nothing much – mostly photos and albums, something that looks like a diary, but it won't open and similar things. I was afraid that in search for dark arts items, the Aurors wouldn't be gentle with anything, they would destroy everything that gets into their hands. You know, nobody cares for something that belongs to a Death Eater or a supposed Death Eater."

"That's really nice of you," said Remus, taking a photo album into his hands, being as curious as Harry who had come to stand next to him. He opened it, carefully because one could never be sure about Snape's things. A photo of Tarquinius riding a broomstick greeted them, he was holding a little boy before him who didn't seem overly enthusiastic about flying high above the ground and who clang fearfully to his father. Both Remus and Harry laughed, seeing a 1 year old Snape who looked anything but intimidating at such a young age. He was hiding his face in Tarquinius's robes, but when he, now and then, looked at them, they smiled at his cute baby face and big dark eyes.

"But I've come here because of something else," continued Kingsley with a heavy sigh, "I've heard in the Ministry that the Weasleys' home was attacked at night. Do you think it was truly Snape's doing?"

"Yes, of course, though Remus here," Moody pointed a finger at Lupin, frowning, "is of a different opinion. But you know him, he would defend Voldemort himself."

Lupin rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but Shacklebolt stopped him. "Several Aurors were sent there, nothing is left of the house. And we don't know where Bill Weasley is. We've been searching for him, but there's no trace, no idea where he could be. I only hope he wasn't in the house."

"We should wait here for Albus," said Moody, "and for the others. Something needs to be done; we have to find Bill."

Both Kingsley and Lupin nodded, sitting down at the table. Harry, his mind full of worries and question, was gazing at the little Snape. The boy looked at him and hid his face in Tarquinius's robes. Bill couldn't be dead; Harry knew or wanted to know, that he was alive and well. A memory of Molly Weasley and her boggart was flashing in his mind, squeezing his mind. No, Bill would be okay; Bill couldn't have died there. No Snape or Death Eaters could have matched a Weasley.

§§

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Author's notes: Ten points to the one who tells me why Weasleys couldn't have died in the house. :-D No worries, the Weasleys are okay, you'll hear of them soon. Thank you very much for all the wonderful reviews! The weather here is truly beautiful these days, hot and sunny, the best thing to do is to spend the days at water and that's what I've been doing. But for today I've decided to give my skin a bit of break, it's not wise being every day in the sun, and type the new chapter. I hope you'll like it.


	8. Chapter Eight

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Chapter Eight

Walking through the Ministry corridors, a feeling of profound sadness was gnawing at his chest, savagely tearing his heart apart. He had decided against a visit to the Order Headquarters even if he knew he had been expected. Instead of himself, Dumbledore had sent a note and some instructions, unable to face anyone. The Weasleys had been contacted and were on their way back from holidays while Remus and Harry had been told to prepare bedrooms for them at Grimmauld Place. Bill Weasley had been with Miss Delacour during the attack and had been instructed to come to the Black House at once. Kingsley Shacklebolt was to get a copy of Aurors' search in Snape Manor and Dumbledore hoped that Severus hadn't kept any dark arts items there.

A weary sigh issued from his mouth as he felt every single of his 150 years. Many losses had he already encountered; yet there was no way he could ever get used to them. Tom loved to play, but why had he chosen Severus? Of course, Dumbledore knew the answer. It was to prove him that he was the more powerful one, that he could lure Severus back into darkness, that he could turn someone whom he considered a son against him. He wanted to see him crushed, down on his knees . . . And although he hadn't defeated him, Riddle had succeeded in something. At that very first moment, when he had found the healer's body at the edge of the Dark Forest, he could have killed Severus in his wrath. There had been a wand on the dead man's chest, Severus's beautiful ebony wand, as ancient as the Snape family for it had gone from father to son through many generations. When the Priori Incantaten revealed the last curse used, he had broken it.

Eventually, the anger had died away and Dumbledore had taken the wand to Ollivander's for repair. What feeling was coming forth now was fear and worry, he was afraid of what would become of Severus in Tom's hands. A monster of a Death Eater? No, Severus's conscience was far too strong to leave him in peace. The former Death Eater would suffer greatly and in the end, Voldemort would kill him, in the moment when Severus would join the dark side again. No, Tom Riddle would never forgive a betrayal, but before the punishment he would use him to his ends. No matter how much disappointed he was, he knew they needed to get the Slytherin out of his captivity as soon as possible, for Severus's and Order's sake. He didn't want to think about what was to remain of his friend in Severus.

For the beginning, there was a person who could help. Deep in thoughts, Dumbledore followed an Auror leading him to the Ministry's prison. With money and connections, even in times like these, one could escape Azkaban. _'At least he wasn't set free,'_ smiled the headmaster while Auror Dawlish unlocked the heavy iron door guarding a small cell. The prisoner had been asleep and only slowly was waking up, blinking several times to clear his vision. In an old frayed tunic and with tangled hair, Lucius Malfoy looked deceivingly vulnerable. Yes, Lucius was a Death Eater, an evil, arrogant men, selfish and prejudiced, but as Severus's friend, he may be of help. Yes, Lucius Malfoy would help them, willingly or not. With that in mind, Dumbledore smiled widely at the blond Death Eater.

§§

Tarquinius was limping upstairs, following Bellatrix obediently. He knew what had happened to his son, but had no other news on his well beings. When he had been told that Severus wished to see him, he had become worried. A chill went down his back, a shudder of real fear.

Bellatrix opened the door for him and pushed him in. The Dark Lord was the first one whom he saw, impressive in his dark robes and with those red eyes.

"I'll leave you alone with him, Quin, but mark my words. If you hurt him in any way, you'll experience what my definition of a slow, painful death means."

With those words he left and Tarquinius relaxed. An oppressive silence fell upon him. Severus was sitting on the bed, his legs drawn up and slender arms wrapped around his knees. A gentle breeze coming from the open window was playing with his loose, raven locks. How much he wanted to reach out, to touch him, to verify to himself that Sev was alive! But instead, as if of their own accord, harsh words poured out of him, "What have you done?"

They flashed through Severus, sharp like a knife blade. Tarquinius watched him flinch and cursed himself for the pain and despair he saw in his son's eyes. How he longed for healing all at pain and bring laughter into those dark eyes!

"I'm sorry," he apologised.

Severus smiled a ghost-like, hardly noticeable sad smile. Had he ever smiled happily? He lifted his hand and beckoned him to come closer. With fast strides, Tarquinius rushed to him and suddenly; he was holding him tight, almost crushing his son in his arms. Severus's face was turned in, against his chest, his hands clenched in Tarquinius's robes. He kissed his dark hair and felt him tremble. He seemed so fragile in his strong arms; he couldn't have recovered completely yet. Why did he want to see him? And how come that the Dark Lord had allowed it?

Severus drew away and framed his father's face in his hands. Tarquinius thought that it was as if he was studying him, storing every detail into his memory. Why? What was he planning? Whatever it was, Tarquinius didn't like it. And when Severus kissed his forehead, he was absolutely horrified. Never in his life had Tarquinius seen his son kiss anyone. Except his mother, of course, that was an exception to a rule and he had been a small boy then. His blood froze.

'What are you planning?" he asked a bit more harshly than he intended to. Severus lowered his eyes and for a moment Tarquinius was enthralled by shadows cast by his long eyelashes. As dark, thick and beautiful as Sophie's. Though Severus looked so much like him, he had his mother's grace, her slender form and most of all, her lovely dark eyes. "Don't do it," frowned Tarquinius, lifting Severus's chin and forcing him to look up. "Don't play an innocent with those eyes, I won't be fooled. You're up to something."

"Father," spoke Snape softly, for the first time since Tarquinius entered the room.

"What is it, Severus?" he urged him, wishing to get an answer from his mysteriously acting son.

Without success. Severus lay down onto the bed, looking very pale, his pallor being intensified by his black hair and dark eyebrows. A wave of dizziness passed through him as a soft moan broke from his lips. Though he was no longer burning, he felt horribly exhausted and had a slight fever.

"Do you hate me? Have I disappointed you?" he asked, searching the truth in Tarquinius's grey eyes.

"You **_are_** planning something, Severus. What is it? You aren't trying to say good-bye, are you?"

"Answer me," said Severus calmly, oblivious to his father's distress.

"How can I hate you? I'm sorry if I hurt you sometimes, I know I need to learn to control myself."

Severus watched his father tremble and he smiled gently, unsettling him all the more. "You may hate me later, but . . ."

The sentence was cut by Tarquinius who grabbed Severus's shoulders and shook him roughly. "What are you planning to do?" he yelled, not letting go of him. "You're doing it again, putting up walls and leaving me outside, you don't trust me. What do you want to do, Severus?"

He knew that he was hurting him, he couldn't help himself, he wanted answers and was afraid, truly afraid. Severus groaned when his head collided painfully with the headboard, but didn't fight him. Voldemort must have been eavesdropping, for at the sound he rushed into the room, snatched Snape from his father's arms and pulled him into an embrace. With a mocking smile he glanced at Tarquinius who struggled in Grabbe and Goyle's grip. Kicking and shouting, he was carried out of the room while Voldemort was stroking **_his_** son's hair, a satisfied smirk plastered on his snake-like face.

The Dark Lord laughed when the door closed and Severus slipped from his arms, turning his back to him.

"Your father is an amusing man. I'm sorry if he hurt you again."

The dark-haired wizard shook his head and bit into his lower lip. "He didn't hurt me," he whispered.

"Welcome back," smiled Voldemort, brushing away the dark hair to reveal Snape's pale cheek. "You made me worried, dear child, you almost died."

"I should have died," mumbled Severus into a pillow, "How come that I'm alive?" he asked, hating how weakly his voice sounded.

"I've saved your life by giving you from my strength."

"How touching," sneered Severus. "Add your name to my 'life-debt list' then, couldn't you have used other means if you so much wanted to save me? Some ordinary healing means, not your strength."

"There was no other way, you were dying. Severus, look into my eyes," ordered Voldemort softly and Snape obeyed, turning his face to him. The red eyes bore into the dark ones. "Severus, I do care about you greatly. If I ever thought of someone as my son, it's you."

He sounded so earnestly that Severus almost believed him. Not only his voice was honest, his face and eyes also appeared to be telling the truth. There were dark shadows under his eyes as if he hadn't slept at all, his clothes were the same as the last time he had seen him, wrinkled.

"You've been all this time with me," whispered Severus, astonished. It was a statement, not a question, he knew that the man who had been at his bedside was the Dark Lord.

"Yes," nodded Voldemort.

"But you also used by weakness, my fever, I couldn't fight you," accused him Severus.

"I did. We're in war, in a war I want to win."

"Dumbledore must hate me now," sighed Severus.

"Oh, I believe he does, my dear and not only him."

"Why do you say that?" frowned Snape. "What did I tell you?"

"You don't remember?" wondered the Dark Lord, surveying Severus through narrowed eyes. Snape shook his head. "Well, you don't remember. You gave me some very useful names, dear boy."

"Names? What . . . what happened? I know that something bad happened . . . but . . . but I don't remember what. What did I tell you?"

Voldemort almost laughed at Severus's distress. The man clearly didn't remember much from his fever. "The Weasleys, my dear, don't you remember them?" he asked gently.

"What happened to them?" whispered Snape.

"They are dead, they died in an attack from my Death Eaters. They really had no chance. Aren't you glad to be rid of that stupid little Griffindor? Ron or what his name was?"

Severus shuddered. No, the Dark Lord was lying, they weren't dead, no . . . impossible . . . "You're lying!" he exclaimed and his eyes bore deep in Voldemort's. "Tell me the truth, don't lie to me!"

"I'm telling you the truth," said Voldemort as seriously as he could.

Severus gasped and his hand reached out to grab the nearest thing he could find. For a moment he sat there, a glass gripped in his hand, fighting the urge to fling it at Voldemort's calm face. He was frozen in place and staring at him wordlessly, angry both with the Dark Lord as well as himself.

"If it will make you feel better, throw it," the dark wizard said softly and he peered closely into Snape's eyes, "However, I do believe that you wish to tell me something. What is it, Severus? You have a deal for me, don't you?"

The glass flew across the room and shattered against the stone wall. The silence following the sound was heavy, filled with expectancy from Voldemort's side. Severus nodded.

__

TBC

§§

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Author's note: ObscureTwin got it right, the Weasleys were in France for holidays and therefore couldn't have been hurt in the attack. What Voldie says to Snape isn't true, none of them died. Actually, I planned to kill one Weasley, but only Bill remained didn't go to France and I didn't want to kill him.

Well, I hope that you like this chapter, though the end may be a bit of a cliffhanger, sorry. I've got some news for you – bad or good? Depends on the point of view, rather well for me, but not that good for the readers. The next up-date will come only sometime after August 22nd, because I'm off to holidays in less then a week. I'm going to Greece (to the island of Crete) with my family and friends for nearly two weeks. And during this one week I have, I need to work on my thesis again.

Thank you very much for your reviews, all of them are most appreciated. :-)


	9. Chapter Nine

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blah blah means flashback, okay? Italics are said by Snape and remembered by Lucius, kind of a flashback too, but much shorter.

Chapter Nine

With his subtle-secret smile Lord Voldemort made himself comfortable on the bed, gently settling Severus's dark head into his lap and playing with his hair. How delicious it was to have this proud wizard in his power! Abandoning the ebony strands, his fingers moved to the tender flesh of Snape's pale neck. How vulnerable human beings were! He could break that neck without any great effort and Severus wouldn't even have time to gasp. He felt the warmth of the skin under his bony fingers. So beautifully warm, so much alive! Severus remained immobile, he did not stir under his touch, he did not move. "Farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear," was all he said in a soft, barely audible whisper.

"We're not in hell, dear child," smiled the dark wizard, stroking that white, warm neck. Was he giving up or was he planning something in that clever mind of his? Often had he wondered how long would Severus last under Cruciatus How long before his mind would snap?

There was no doubt that Snape was pondering something, but the Dark Lord knew the precise moment when to say nothing. Severus's weary gaze was turned to the window and he watched it with that strange interest in trivial things when things of high importance make one too afraid to face them. Finally he spoke, his voice firm and cold, "Let my father go, master. I'll do anything you want."

"But my precious child, you'll do anything anyway," laughed Voldemort, "I still find Tarquin useful and you have nothing to offer."

Severus rose from the bed and knelt down, his large eyes of satin fixed on the Dark Lord's face.

"You will have my obedience, master and your victory over Dumbledore. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Voldemort stood up and began circling the kneeling Potions Master slowly. "Severus. Severus. Severus. I don't trust you. Do you love him so much? Why? Tell me how it feels, I've never known."

"My relationship with my father is a complex thing, difficult to explain in words. You've never known, you'll never understand."

"He'll hate you when I do it," said the Dark Lord and buried his spidery fingers in Snape's hair. With a quiet laugh he yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at him. "I'll make sure that he believes you've betrayed everyone."

Without a word, Voldemort let go of Snape's hair and walked over to the door, glancing at Snape before leaving him alone. The confused wizard hardly had any time for thinking, for he was back soon. He grabbed his arm and went dragging him down the stairs into the cellars. Severus stumbled after him clumsily, wondering what the meaning of it was and stopped when he heard his father's angry loud voice, "Where is my son?" yelled Tarquinius and Severus cringed at the rough sound of it. "Where's that traitor? I want to see him, I want to . . ."

Severus jerked away from Voldemort's hand, ready to rush down to his father to tell him . . . tell him what? That he wasn't a traitor, that he cared for him, that he . . . loved him? What had they told him? What lies? He wanted to scream and run to him, but strong arms got hold of his wrists, slammed them against the hard wall and a hand covered his mouth, the fingers digging into is face. After a strained moment of silence, the Dark Lord leaned to him and whispered, watching the effect of each word upon Snape's face.

"Saving your skin and betraying everyone so that your father goes free . . . That's not very brave, dear child."

Severus's face became ghastly white and a horrible sense of sickness came over him. What had they told his father? He turned his face away from Voldemort who whispered into his ear, "I'm so sorry, my child. For now Quin goes free to assure Dumbledore and the others of your loyalty to me. Quite simple, isn't it? Why shouldn't they believe in your betrayal when they'll see him free? However, I won't stop to hunt him down and the next time he falls into my hands, I won't spare him."

A groan broke from Snape's lips and he shivered all over. He had wanted his father to be safe and he had known the price, so why did it hurt him so much? This way Voldemort could hurt only him and not his father. There was a possibility that he could regain his trust and use it to his means. And yet he felt as if an iron ring was being slowly tightened around his heart and the hand up on his wrist weighed like a hand of lead, crushing him. When the hands let go of him, he hurried to a nearby window. He could see him father being led away, he saw him struggling and kicking and no doubt cursing too. Voldemort's arms came around him, drawing him into an embrace and Severus let himself sank into his warmth. The hand caressing his hair was oddly comforting and despite his inner voice urging him to pull away, Severus let himself be held. Not even the whispered "You're mine" made him pull away. At that moment he needed someone to hold him.

§§

"What do you want here?" asked Lucius as icily as he could early in the morning, glaring at the unwelcomed visitor. Dumbledore brought a chair closer to his bed and sat down.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. Believe it or not, I need your help."

Lucius ran a hand over his face and groaned. "This early? How rude of you to wake me up at this hour! Clearly some wizards have no manners! You must have known that I'm not going to help you with anything."

"You will, Lucius," said Dumbledore softly, "Severus needs your help."

"Severus?"

In a moment he was sitting up straight. "But Potter told me in the hospital that he was recovering well!" What could have happened to him? Was he ill? Some illness only he could help with? Did he need something?

Dumbledore smiled. There it was, clearly a concern for his friend's well being. Lucius would help. "Severus has been captured by Voldemort."

The words made Lucius pale. "What do you mean by 'captured'?" he screamed angrily.

"You have no idea," sighed Dumbledore. So Severus hadn't trusted his friend with his secret. He reached out and patted Malfoy's shoulder, but was shrugged off.

"Keep your disgusting hands away from me, old man!" hissed Lucius. Severus captured by Voldemort. Captured… No, Severus would never like to HIM, to his friend. "Severus is loyal to the Lord," whispered Lucius, but his voice sounder weak and unconvinced in his hesitation.

"Lucius, there's not a moment to be lost. Voldemort has Tarquinius too!"

The Death Eater flinched at his master's name. Voldemort… Severus…

__

Lucius, it's an honour to serve him…

No, Severus's loyalty was unquestionable.

__

Come with me, Lu. What he has to offer, you have never been able to dream about.

"No, not Severus…"

__

He's been to places no wizard has ever been…

"… not a traitor…"

__

Join us, Lucius.

"… never Sev…"

A worried frown settled in Dumbledore's ancient face as he watched his former student. Gently he shook him to wake him up from his reverie, but Lucius didn't react. He was lost in his memories.

__

Master, let me introduce Lucius Malfoy to you.

"Lucius, snap out of it!"

__

The only thing Lucius was aware of (beside his fear) was the dreadful coldness of the moonlit night and a pair of glowing red eyes. He dared not to look into them, so he was staring at the dark wizard's boots. And fine boots they were, the finest dragon skin, hand made, undoubtedly expensive. A dry laughter reached his ears and Lucius shivers, averting his gaze to Severus's feet. That was an exquisite robe he was wearing… "Luciusss," hissed the laughing wizard, causing Lucius to tremble more, "I have long desired to meet you in person." 

With a gasp, Lucius realised he was looking into the sky blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore. He had never seen that expression in his face, what was it? The missing twinkle, pale face… he looked sad! Indeed, Dumbledore was watching him with sadness. "I've never known," he said.

"He…" Lucius couldn't bring himself to say Snape's name, "… he betrayed me. How can you expect me to help you?"

"I know that you care for him. He's more than a friend to you, Lucius."

Malfoy's grey eyes widened and Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, I know. Now tell me where he may be."

TBC.

§§


	10. Chapter Ten

**__**

A/N: I've forgotten to add to the previous chapter that the words Severus says to Voldemort "Farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear" _are from John Milton's Paradise Lost. And now the next chapter is here…_

****

Chapter Ten

A rare hard breeze held that morning gripped in cold and Severus shivered in the coldness enveloping him, penetrating his still weakened, fragile body, stabbing right into his heart. Something was going to happen, no doubt that something bad. He was sitting in a comfortable armchair while Arenwald, the vampire, was fussing around him. Murmuring something about "frail mortals" and "not being strong enough for that", he was now here, making sure that Severus was warm and comfortable, then there, closing the windows against the chilly coldness. Snape wondered what awaited him, but wasn't paying much thinking to it. He had willingly given himself over to Voldemort and wasn't as stupid as not to know that the Dark Lord would use him to his means somehow. But he had no idea of what use he may be to him.

A glass touched his lips and when Severus wanted to take it, he realised that he was bound to the chair. He sent a deadly glare at the vampire; how dare that creature bound him?

"Drink this, professor, you need strength. I assure you that it isn't a poison."

"No," Snape shook his head, refusing to take anything not made by him.

"Severus, my dear child," came a soft voice from the doorway, sounding colder than the air around, "you're no more a free man. You no more have choices. Drink it."

He looked at him, standing at the doorframe, leaning leisurely against it, tall and impressive. "What is it?" asked Snape, holding Voldemort's red gaze.

"A part of your redemption," hissed the Dark Lord and a dagger flashed in his hand. He snatched the glass from Arenwald's hands, ordered Snape to drink most of it, then cut deeply into his wrist and let blood drop into it. Severus didn't move, just watched transfixed how his blood mixed with the potion in the glass. Voldemort flashed a wide smile at him and drank it down, licking his lips as if it had been a delicacy.

§§

The quiet sobbing of Molly Weasley couldn't be heard upstairs in the luxurious living room of the Black House, but both Harry and Ron felt the depressing mood keenly. Ron sat curled in a sofa, with the strangest expression of loss and grief on his normally cheerful face. He hadn't said a word; he didn't trust his voice. Sometimes he wished he had been a girl to be able to openly show his grief and cry. That he couldn't, he knew. He was almost a man and he had to be strong for Ginny like his father was strong for mom. How was it possible that they no longer had a place called home? He had had his suspicions about Snape, but… Did that man hate them so much? Why?

"Ron, we need to find a way to get out of here with the Order," Harry interrupted his thoughts, "Dumbledore wants to – as he says – rescue Snape. We need to join them, Ron, we have to!"

Harry's tone was urgent as he was pacing the floor, clenching his fists in his fury. His emerald eyes were blazing rather spectacularly, making him look strong and powerful. Ron didn't say anything, but went on listening to him.

"I want him in Azkaban, rotting away with Dementors! How could he fail Dumbledore's trust? Ron, I'll get him. I'll kill him."

At that Ron's head jerked up to look at his friend. "You won't kill him, Harry."

"Why?" asked Harry as he spun around to face Ron. "I have no mercy for him."

"You're just angry, that's all. Don't worry, this time it will be a life sentence for him. And you don't want to know what Dementors are allowed to do to the Lifers. There're still enough Dementors in Azkaban, they'll drive him mad."

__

They'll drive him mad. Harry frowned, musing about which fate was worse and what Dumbledore was doing. Surely he didn't expect Lucius Malfoy to help them. That man had no heart; he couldn't imagine him helping anyone (including Snape) against his Lord. When he saw Ron hugging his knees to his chest, a shiver run down his spine. What was worse? A death for the traitor or madness in Azkaban?

§§

"He must be in Lestrange Castle," spoke Lucius in an uncharacteristically soft voice; "it's heavily guarded and well protected. Only the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters can get there, wards are truly strong. If you want to get inside, you need to enter it with someone wearing the Dark Mark. Close family members are allowed inside too."

"How close family members?" asked Dumbledore. What Lucius was telling him didn't sound optimistic. Severus had been their only Death Eater spy and of the three Lestranges none was on their side.

"The closest – parents, children, brothers and sisters, wives and husbands," replied Lucius.

But was he telling the truth? He had seemed truly hurt by Severus's double role, by his betrayal. He peered closely into the grey eyes from under his half-moon glasses. The Death Eater smiled. "See for yourself, I don't lie."

Using Legillimency, Dumbledore entered Malfoy's unresisting mind.

__

He saw a small, blond-haired boy riding a pony and laughing. No, not that, that was a past too distanced for now. Dumbledore searched further. A familiar pale face looked at him.

__

"I'll stay here, Lucius. Father is in prison." His face was bruised and sad.

"But that is great, Sev, he won't ever hurt you again!"

Not that… He searched for more recent memories, but those Lucius guarded better. Again he saw Severus, sitting in an armchair and holding a baby boy, a little bit awkwardly. He gave a weak smile, obviously unsure of how to hold a baby. _"Lu, he's lovely, but…"_

Through the memories a voice spoke to him, 'I'm not lying, please! I don't want him dead, Dumbledore, he's like my brother, my twin, my only cousin!'

"Please," whispered Lucius. "He'll kill Severus! I feel something… something bad is happening, Severus isn't well! You MUST stop him, Dumbledore. You've got him into this mess, you must go and help him now!"

Dumbledore took Malfoy's icy hands into his. "I will, Lucius, I'll do everything to save him."

§§

Severus gasped as a shock of pain shot through his veins. The Dark Lord's hands were on his, his forehead resting against his forehead, red eyes blazing and lips whispering foreign incantations:

__

tvoye telo k mouymu…

He closed his eyes tightly, concentrating on his breathing so that he wouldn't cry out. His body was on fire as if the Dark Lord had burnt it away, he no longer had it.

__

tvoya dusha k moyey…

A scream broke from Snape's lips, the pain was excruciating. His heart was ripped open and shattered, bleeding into his chest; he no longer had a soul.

__

tvuoy zhivot ye muoy…

He shuddered as his veins exploded in pain and he cried out, feeling hot tears flowing down his cheeks and with them his life flowing away. His life was no longer his.

__

ti si muoy

His eyes closed and when the bounds around his wrists disappeared, he collapsed limply into Voldemort's arms. "You're mine, say it," he spoke and Severus repeated, "I'm yours."

At that moment he could feel the pain passing away as if the Dark Lord's body had the power to heal it. It felt… incredibly good and Severus snuggled closer to him. This closeness, it was… something he hadn't felt before, amazing and horrible as it began to dawn on him, clenching his chest in horror.

"What have you done to me?" he asked though he knew now.

"Your loyalty had already failed once, Severus. I don't want that to be repeated. You have to understand that I had no choice in this, I can't see you fail again. You're bonded to me now; I'll always know where you are. You understand, don't you?"

Severus nodded mutely and over Voldemort's shoulder he looked at the vampire standing in shadows. He had a peculiar expression in his face, something of deep sorrow and shock. The Dark Lord stood up, pulling Severus to his feet too.

"I want you to continue in your research. In this library you'll find any book you need and Arenwald is at your service too. If you're hungry, just ring a bell for a house elf."

With a reassuring smile Voldemort walked over to the door and before leaving, he added, "I even have a suitable 'experimental rabbit' for you, dear child."

The door closed and Snape searched out Arenwald's eyes. "You play a dangerous game, professor," the vampire shook his head, "And you're losing."

"So I am," snapped Snape, contempt curling his lips into a sneer and he strolled over to have a look at the books. "And it's none of your business, filthy creature! Oh, but these books are treasures!"

Arenwald smiled at the man's suddenly changed tone. "Look, look at these!" Snape took an ancient book from a shelf; "This is… bloody hell! I thought that there's not a piece left of these books."

"And are they worthy enough of what you've given to the Dark Lord?"

Snape froze, holding the open book in his hand. "It doesn't matter anymore, vampire," he sighed, "What do _you_ know about human feelings and our time? You're just an observer, so be so kind, shut up and let me work."

"As you wish, professor," bowed Arenwald slightly, and took a seat in a nearby chair.

TBC…

§§

**__**

Author's note: The incantation Voldemort used to bond Severus to him is actually in Slovak language (my language), but written in a different spelling. I didn't feel like creating some new language or using some other, this one should sound foreign enough to you (well, most of you, Darkinfinity1 will understand it).Big thanks for everyone reviewing, thank you very much. .


	11. Chapter Eleven

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Chapter Eleven

The door to Lucius's cell flew open and banged against the wall, the harsh sound of it causing the Death Eater to leap from his chair in alarm. Dumbledore had left but minutes ago and he hadn't expected any other visit. It was Auror Dawlish, standing there with a murderous rage in his eyes that Lucius didn't understand. The unpleasant smirk paralysed Malfoy's body in terror. What did this man want? He hadn't done anything to harm him.

"So you know Snape well," hissed the Auror and Lucius retreated into a corner. "I advise you to tell me where that son of a bitch is, every possible place where he may be or…"

He laughed dryly and pointed his wand at the terrified Death Eater. "Or you'd wish for death."

§§

Snape woke up with a start in the middle of a night, his heart pounding painfully against his chest. There was someone in the room; he could detect a faint, human scent. A familiar scent… He rose on his elbows and squinted into the dark of the bedroom.

"Why the hell are you staring at me?" he groaned and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to wake himself. While the presence was familiar though unseen, the room felt oddly alien. Why?

"Awake, are we? I didn't want to wake you up, dear child."

Snape raised one fine eyebrow. "Then enlighten me, master, why have you been watching me?" He gave a huge yawn, not bothering to cover it. "Don't you trust in your binding spell?"

"I have no doubts about the quality of my magic, Severus," said Voldemort softly with a smile noticeable in his voice, "but I worry about you. How are you feeling?"

His face emerged from the darkness as he came closer and sat on Severus's bed. Snape raised his head and pulled his blanket around himself. He narrowed his eyes, but he only thing he could see was Voldemort's face with glowing red eyes and dimly the outline of the bed… a different bed, not the one he had used in the tower of the Lestrange Castle. The Dark Lord moved a little and positioned himself next to Severus, their backs against the headboard. Severus chuckled softly, bowed his head and smiled.

"Why are you smiling?"

"I might just be going insane," shrugged Snape with a smirk on his pale face, "You tell me. You make me feel like a puppet whose strings are in your hands. You certainly know everything, so tell me."

An arm came around Severus's thin shoulders, drawing him closer to the Dark Lord until they were shoulder to shoulder.

"You're distressed, but that's understandable so soon after the binding," said Voldemort, caressing Snape's arm soothingly, "Tell me, truthfully, how are you feeling?"

Suddenly Severus was struck with an intense rage and he couldn't fight it back, he didn't want to. He felt Voldemort stiffening next to him; he must have felt his anger through the bond. Severus leaped from the bed and slapped him so hard he surprised even himself and Voldemort to appeared to be stunned, certainly expecting anything but this.

"Thank you for your genuine interest, my lord," whispered Snape in a low, cold voice laced with venom, "It is so touching, I'm deeply moved…"

He never had the chance to finish the sentence as Voldemort jumped from the bed and caught Snape by his throat. The younger wizard gasped and struggled for air, but the strong hand only tightened more firmly around his throat.

"I've given you a second chance," hissed the Dark Lord, malice glowing in his eyes, "I've let your father go. This is how you repay me?"

He threw him to the floor and whipped out his wand. "Is this your gratitude?" he yelled and Severus groaned when he felt the stabs of his anger at his heart. How was this bond working? Could they feel each other's emotions? What he felt now wasn't his wrath anymore and it was clutching painfully at his heart, tearing it apart. It was the most dreadful feeling, fear of being hated by Voldemort and it was hurting him, he was certain that it could kill him. He reached his hand to him, unable to form a word, but the Dark Lord knocked it away and Severus bit his lower lip hard, drawing blood. He grew white and trembled. He clenched his hands together in silent prayer and his voice seemed to catch in his throat, "Please, my lord…" he murmured.

The only answer his pleas was a cold laughter. The Dark Lord looked down at him, laughed and then took hold of his arm and was dragging him none too gently downstairs into a damp, earthy cell. There he flung Severus down to the floor, his lips curling in disdain. "You disappoint me, Severus. I believed that your words were truthful, that you were willing to serve me again. I would have given you everything. It was foolish of me to think that you would let go of your pride and stubbornness!"

Severus rose to his feet and with an expression of pain in his pallid face, came across a cell to Voldemort. He put his hand upon his arm, but he thrust it back.

"Don't leave me here, my lord," he pleaded, "Don't leave me here with this bond. Severe it."

"Severus, you have no idea what you're asking for," smiled Voldemort icily, "I doubt that you would if I broke it. Does it hurt you now? Imagine how more horrific the pain would be if I were to severe this bond in anger."

And in a calm, cold voice, he added, "I'm going." He turned on his heel and left the cell, locking Snape in it. A low moan broke from Severus and he rested his forehead against the heavy iron door, feeling the pull of the spell with Dark Lord's leaving. Every step away from him tore at his heart savagely, clawing at it like a hungry vulture.

"Come back," he whispered and his voice was filled with pain, "Don't leave me alone in your disappointment."

It was as if a part of him had left him and he was sure that he couldn't live without that part. _All I want is to be where you are; _he thought and now understood Arenwald's sorrowful gaze. _Is it worthy enough of what you've given to the Dark Lord? _He had given too much, he knew that, but what other choice had he had? The knowledge that he wouldn't be able to live a full life without Voldemort was terrifying. For how long would he be left here on his own? What if Voldemort would forget him here? Would he die then?

He cast down his eyes and saw his bare feet. Only a thin, white nightgown – that was all he was wearing and the coldness of the cell was beginning to crawl under his skin. Slowly he sank down to the ground with his back against the door. "Come back," he whispered again and this time fear and loneliness had crept into his voice. Never before had he felt as lonely as now when the only man who had shown kindness to him in these last few days abandoned him.

§§

Dumbledore was lost in his thoughts when he returned to Hogwarts and headed to his office. He would have to go to Grimmauld Place too, but he needed time on his own to think first. To enter the Lestrange Castle, they would either need a Death Eater or a close family member. The closest family members, Lucius had said. Lucius Malfoy would be the best choice, there was no other Death Eater in prison, but… How far would he go to save his cousin? He had no idea that Lucius and Severus were so closely related, but when he thought more about it, Lucius and Tarquin had the very same grey eyes. Suddenly Dumbledore halted before the entrance to his office – both the staircase and the door was opened. Quickly he rushed inside to find Tarquinius Snape seated in an armchair opposite his desk, sipping firewhiskey and smoking. Fawkes was flying around him, waving his wings irritably. At that moment Dumbledore's heart almost stopped beating.

"What are you doing here?" How could he have escaped from Voldemort? Unless Severus…

"I'm back, can't you see? Smoking and drinking. No other joys left to me in this stinking word," replied the older Snape, sounding quite sober. Dumbledore flung himself into a chair at the desk.

"Where's your son? Where's Severus?"

"I have no son," said Tarquinius coldly, flicking ash onto the mahogany desk. Dumbledore shuddered at his tone. Yes, it sounded cold as it often had when he was talking about his son, but there was also a trace of deep sorrow or shock. "I used to have a son," continued Snape and the headmaster shivered. Severus couldn't be dead, could he? "But he was a traitor and a murderer. He was a man I didn't understand, but also a noble, brave man, stronger than I had thought him. I don't have a son anymore."

He poured himself another glass of firewhiskey and spilled some of it as his hand shook. "I think I'll get married again," he frowned as if the prospect of marriage wasn't much to his tastes, "and I'll conceive another son. Do you know any young, fertile women? You could give me a list of your older female Slytherin students; it would be most helpful. Rich and pureblood females, I should add."

Dumbledore stared transfixed at him, "Have you gone completely insane, Tarquin? Where's Severus? What happened to him?"

The grey eyes grew even colder upon the mention of Severus's name. "Insane? You all think me insane, but unfortunately, I'm as sane as a wizard can be. It's a pity, I would have preferred insanity to this bloody reality."

"What happened to Severus?" asked Dumbledore again, becoming more and more nervous. Tarquin's words were telling one story, but his eyes quite another. He saw sorrow behind the grey coldness as he peered closely into his eyes.

"The bastard is well and comfortable at Dark Lord's side. He took him back, Severus returned to him. Is there anything else you want to know?"

Tarquinius lit himself another cigarette and continued smoking. "The Dark Lord let me go… Severus's request, I suppose, a gift for his betrayal of the light side."

Wish a sigh Dumbledore buried his face in his hands. This all was… unbelievable. He hated himself for the suspicions he was feeling. Severus had chosen Tom Riddle. No, Severus hadn't had a choice; he had certainly wanted his father safe. Or not… Tom was a wizard of extraordinary power of personality, he knew Severus since he was born, he knew him at least as much as he, Albus, did if not better.

Tarquinius rose from the armchair, took the bottle of firewhiskey and went to the door. "I need a long, long sleep, I'll be in… his quarters."

Dumbledore watched him descending the stairs. They had another man wearing a dark mark and able to enter the Lestrange Castle, but he doubted that Severus was any longer there.

§§

In Severus's living room, Tarquinius collapsed exhausted onto a sofa. The room was a mess as if a tornado or a potion accident had taken place there. _Aurors maybe_, he thought and reached down for scattered photographs on the floor. He hadn't known that… he… had kept any old photos, his… son… was hardly a sentimental man. His eyes fell onto a picture of himself – young and strong, holding his little son in his arms. He reached for another photo, which depicted him wasted and aged and next to him… Severus… stood; his eyes cast down, his hair obscuring his face. He looked small and think, but when he raised his head, hatred burned clearly in his dark eyes. Tarquinius put his cigarette to the picture and watched with fascination how it caught fire and burned slowly. The photo-Severus closed his eyes and turned his face away, but fast enough for Tarquinius not to see the pained expression in it.

§§

**__**

Author's note: Long time no see, I know. I've been very busy lately, school is draining me of all energy and my exams aren't going as well as expected. _Therefore I doubt that I will be able to update more often that this, sorry. I also had problems with my PC (thousands of viruses!) and… love is in the air… But I hope that you like the chapter anyway._

I was also asked for the translation of the spell Voldemort used, so here it is: Your body to mine, your soul to mine, your life is mine, you are mine.

Thank you very much for the reviews, all of them are welcomed. Keep reviewing, comments are always needed. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

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Chapter Twelve

Though Kingsley Shacklebolt was giving off an air of calmness, the way he was playing with his golden hoop indicated that he was quite nervous. He could tell that this was an important Auror meeting, only higher placed Aurors were present and… the minister of magic, Fudge, wearing an odd expression in his face. He was seated at the front and behind him a tough-looking wizard stood, his hair short and wiry – Auror Dawlish. To Kingsley he looked like a Spanish inquisitor eager to start a witch-hunt. Or the Snape hunt, to be precise.

"Mr Dawlish," spoke the minister, "I appreciate your devotion to the case, but I doubt that your methods of questioning Mr Malfoy were lawful. You know that Mr Malfoy comes from an old, respectable family…"

"He's got the mark," the Auror interrupted him sharply, "and he is a Death Eater. He's also Snape's cousin, he told me, among other interesting things."

For a while they stared at each other until Fudge sighed, "Very well, Mr Dawlish, you know what is necessary."

"Might I say something?" asked Kingsley and not waiting for permission, he continued, "As much as I respect Mr Dawlish's skills and experience, I have my doubts about his personal involvement in this case."

"I, on the other hand, have no doubts," said Fudge, glaring at the black wizard, "I think it's perfectly rightful to have Mr Dawlish in charge of catching the murderer of his son. I trust that he'll do his best to get Snape and to show Dumbledore how mistaken he was in trusting him."

Kingsley said nothing, knowing that it was useless. To catch Snape was important to show Dumbledore's blunder and to have a public wiping boy before the minister of magic election. With a sigh, he looked at a thick file opened before him. _Severus Tarquinius Snape_, it read. Quickly he turned to the last page with the results of searching the Snape Manor and Snape's quarters at Hogwarts. No illegal potions had been found, only some poisons locked safely at Hogwarts and obviously used for creating antidotes, as notes indicated. Kingsley smiled to himself. Smart boy. He had no doubts that Snape had a secret storage somewhere else, well hidden. But how to get him out of this mess? Dumbledore had sent him a message that Tarquinius Snape was free which could one indicate one thing – Severus had decided to stay with Voldemort, to give in and save that bastard of a father he had. In Kingsley's opinion, Tarquinius deserved to rot in Azkaban, he certainly wasn't worth of such a sacrifice (assuming that Snape really did sacrifice himself and not chosen Voldemort because he wanted to), but who was he to judge? His family had always been loving and caring and…

"Try to get him alive," Fudge's words interrupted his thoughts, "I'll have him publicly executed, this time it's the Kiss for him."

§§

On the first day of his imprisonment he had been stubborn and unyielding, very angry and hateful, especially towards him. When Arenwald had brought him breakfast, he had refused it, knocking over the tray. His fiery black eyes had flashed in rage and Arenwald had loved it, enjoyed him fighting the bond, struggling hard not to yield in. He had brought him lunch too and the professor had thrown the plate against the wall, colourful insults pouring from his mouth. Dinner he had refused too as well as water. Keeping in mind what the Dark Lord had told him - _Don't let him die_ – he had grabbed Snape's hair and holding him tightly, had forced some water down his throat. The glare he had got in return was truly murderous, but Arenwald could feel fear hidden behind it.

The next day he had found the professor coughing and shivering in his thin nightgown, but his glare had been as defiant as ever. Arenwald contemplated bringing him warmer clothes, but it would have been against the Dark Lord's instructions. He had asked for him, unable to hide his pain from the unwanted separation. Again he had refused food or water and this time the vampire hadn't forced him. _Let_'_s see how long you can last, professor, _he smirked, amused by the resentful look in wizard's face.

However, on the third day he had attacked him, breaking the glass of water to stab at the vampire. When Arenwald easily had got hold of the slender wrist, much to his surprise the professor hadn't dropped the piece of glass, but had clenched his hand, the glass cutting deep into his hand. The scent of blood had invaded the vampire's nostrils, making him shiver from the delicious perfume. Blood… and so near… so pure… so sweet. And Snape had been smiling at him, one eyebrow raised, tempting him. He had put his bleeding hand on his mouth, smearing the blood on Arenwald's lips who had been lost in the sweet scent and taste. "Pure wizard blood," Snape had whispered, his voice low and silken. Arenwald had licked at blood on the hand and was about to bite and have more, when he had understood Snape's intentions. He had pushed him away… no, no, had thrown him away, roughly. The professor had remained lying unconscious on the floor and Arenwald fled the cell and that sweet scent of blood.

Arenwald understood what the professor had wanted to do. "You wanted me to attack you," he murmured to himself while preparing toasts and tea, "You thought that he would come which he probably would have, but I'm not stupid, no, no, my dear professor."

Slowly he was buttering the toasts; determined to stuff them down Snape's throat this time. "And maybe you hoped that I would have killed you."

He decided against adding milk or sugar into tea, but slipped a few drops of healing potion into it. With a tray he entered the damp, cold cell. Severus Snape appeared to be sleeping quite peacefully, lying on his side, with one hand underneath his cheek. But Arenwald knew that he had no peace and indeed the skinny man was shivering slightly and there was a frown settled in his white face. The warmth of the summer sun didn't reach the cell as it had no windows, so Arenwald let the door open to allow a bit of light inside. It fell upon the sleeping wizard who stirred, blinking slowly. A pained moan broke from him as he breathed out, "Master."

Arenwald crouched down to him. "He's not here, you certainly can feel that." Carefully he examined his head where he had been hit and Snape winced in pain. With an effort he sat up and gazed into the vampire's eyes.

"This emptiness here…" he clutched one slender, bandaged hand to his chest, "is unbearable. I'll go insane, Arenwald."

His black eyes spoke of suffering, he couldn't hide that, not before a vampire who could feel every human emotion keenly. But it was fascinating, watching him – the traitor – suffering from Dark Lord's absence and struggling with himself. Curious how he hated himself for not being able to resist the unresistable binding spell and not Voldemort, who had cast it on him.

"You won't be insane, professor. Drink this."

Snape turned his face away, thought he must have been thirsty by now.

"Professor, you'll drink this water and tea and eat these toasts or…"

"Or what?" whispered Snape, but drank the tea, being really thirsty.

"The master wants you and you should use this second chance. When someone lives as long as I do, good and evil matter no more. With time the ethics change, the concept of what is good and what is evil changes. Power remains and knowledge, no one can rob you of your knowledge. Don't be afraid of your dark side, learn what you can, it's yours. You wouldn't be whole without it."

"How touching," sneered Snape. His ghost-like hand was still pressed against his heart and if possible, his skin was paler, white like a sheet. Contempt curled his lips as he asked, "What do _you_ want from me?"

Arenwald seemed taken aback by the question and Snape's cold tone. His eyes wandered to Snape's exposed throat, which was as pale as his face. "I'd love to rip your throat open," he said calmly, watching with amusement how Snape shuddered, "and drink deep, taste that sweet blood of yours again. You've already given me a taste of you and it will haunt me now. But I can reign over my nature and the Dark Lord supplies me with a lovely amount of fresh human blood. Maybe he'll get tired of you once and then…"

He reached out to Snape and touched the side of his warm neck. "In the meantime, I'd like to work with you. Your skills and knowledge are legendary. I used to be an alchemist, but gave it up long time ago when I become a vampire."

Suddenly Snape smiled – not a sneer or a cold smile – but true smile, which lightened up his face and eyes. Arenwald had never seen him like that and for a reason he didn't know, it frightened him.

"I feel… the distance is… he's returning."

Unlike Snape's, Arenwald's smile grew cold and sad. "Very well," he sighed, pulling Snape to his feet, "Come, we'll go and greet him."

§§

**__**

Author'**_s notes: _**Not much happening in this chapter, but Voldemort will be back in the next and Aurors are preparing to attack soon… :-) I'_m so very happy these days, I_'_ve passed an important and difficult exam, I_'_m still celebrating and I am so very tired, quite exhausted, but happy. Thank you very much for your reviews as well as thanks to those who reviewed "To a Land Far Away" too. I_'_m not sure if you remember the healer Snape killed in the first chapters – well; his father is no one else but Auror Dawlish, eager for revenge._


	13. Chapter Thirteen

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Chapter Thirteen

Many things had Peter Pettigrew experienced in his life, but that the Dark Lord would forgive Snape's betrayal – who would have thought that possible? It was he, who had helped in his rebirth, had sacrificed his hand, had obeyed every command and yet no more was he but a servant and someone Snape could test his potions on. And evil potions had they been, causing him unbearable pain – peeling away his skin or burning deep down into his bones – and that cold bastard Snape… Snape had watched him in that unmoved, detached way of a scientist, taking notes and smiling to himself in satisfaction. Clearly torturing him was far more satisfying that torturing students. Snape had laughed at him, had been delighted by the choice of his 'experimental rabbit'.

Now the Dark Lord was sprawled on a sofa, letting Bellatrix, who looked very proud of herself, massaging his head and shoulders. Snape, that sadistic beast, was seated in an armchair and reading letters to the Dark Lord. He, Peter, as usually, was excluded from their noble little company and degraded into the position of a mere servant. Cursing the greasy-haired sadist in his mind, he put a fresh cup of tea on the table next to Snape, imagining it to be a deadly poison that would cause the git to die a painful death, choking on his bile. Snape irked an eyebrow at him and smirked unpleasantly, enjoying himself enormously when Pettigrew was serving him.

Voldemort smiled, observing the wordless exchange between Wormtail and Snape with amusement. Severus, who had reminded him of a tortured ghost upon his return, was now practically gleaming. Was he aware of how much of himself he was losing to him? The bond was working amazingly well. Not only did he feel every tiny emotion of his, but Severus trusted and needed him, he had no one else left and now he seemed to be accepting him. "Bella told me that your 'liquid Cruciatus' is a success," he said to him and immediately felt Severus's pride mixed with fading guilt and saw Wormtail flinch.

The Potions Master saw Pettigrew's involuntary flinch too and it brought a light smile to his face. "Yes, master," he replied quietly while his black eyes regarded his former school-mate coldly, "We have successfully tested it today and I dare say that it's more powerful than Bella's Cruciatus, but it doesn't destroy one's mind. However," he smirked, not taking his eyes off Peter, "using the rat's brain, these results are questionable. To call a test truly successful, it should be tested on someone who actually has a brain. I wonder why you haven't yet replaced him for a higher form of existence."

Voldemort chuckled softly and smiled, sending shivers down Wormtail's spine. "He's a fine servant, you wouldn't believe. But continue reading, dear child."

Severus reached into a pile of parchments and unfolded one scroll. He recognised the elegant, decorated handwriting at once even though it was somewhat rushed and for a moment his heart stilled while his eyes quickly moved down to the signature. Voldemort saw him pale considerably and he frowned.

"Who is it from?"

"L-Lucius… but… how?"

Confused, Severus raised his eyes to the Dark Lord's who tensed under Bellatrix's fingers. "My spies are everywhere, of course, and Lucius too has his connections, don't be so surprised. Now read!" he ordered.

"_My master,_" obliged Snape, willing his hear-beat to slow, "_I have no words for expressing my sorrows for not being strong enough. I have failed…_" Severus's hand began to tremble slightly, "_I was weak, but S-Severus is… is very dear to me and I… I was so afraid, I wanted to…_" Severus's voice broke, but he read on, "_to protect him… Dumbledore…" _he breathed out, almost inaudibly.

"WHAT?" roared Voldemort and Snape dropped the letter, his hands shaking violently. Dumbledore… Had he visited Lucius? What for? Could it be that… that… he cared? Something tightened in Severus's chest, a tiny little hope rising from ashes like a phoenix. But Dumbledore… he had seen him angry and disappointed in the pensieve. He wanted to look at the letter again, but Voldemort had snatched it from the ground and was now pacing back and forth, rage radiating from him in great waves.

__

Severus is very dear to me… The more Snape thought of it, the angrier Voldemort appeared to be, his fist clenching and unclenching.

"Bella!" he yelled suddenly, "That brainless, narcissistic husband of your sister has betrayed our hiding places to the Ministry! We must attack first! Bring me Lucius alive so I can personally skin him!"

Then he whirled over to Snape who was staring at him wide-eyed and puzzled. In another surge of anger, he yanked his hair and slammed him onto the floor. Wormtail gasped and fled the room, following Bellatrix – both happy not to be the ones on whom the Dark Lord would release his anger.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO LUCIUS, SNAPE?" roared Voldemort and hit the younger wizard hard. "This is your doing, how come that he would betray me, his lord?"

Severus was watching the Dark Lord from the floor, fearing that the throbbing vein on his ghastly white forehead may explode in anger any time. The hand with the spidery fingers didn't let go of his hair, pulling at the roots as Voldemort knelt down to him.

"You've made a traitor out of him too!" he hissed and stood up abruptly, pulling Severus to his feet too.

"No, my lord, I…" protested Snape.

"Silence!" shouted Voldemort and Snape flinched. A long thin finger touched his chin, bringing his face closer so that their noses were almost touching. Voldemort lowered his voice to a venomous whisper, "Lucius cares for you and so you do, but I'll not tolerate such weakness in my ranks. You understand why I have to punish you."

Severus nodded. A sly smile spread through Voldemort's lips as a whisper left his mouth and Snape's eyes widened when he recognised the dark curse. The tip of Dark Lord's wand touched Snape's wrist who screamed when the bones there snapped. He wanted to back away, but the hand in his hair prevented it, holding him in a painful grip. "Do not close your eyes, Severus," said Voldemort softly and watched how the dark eyes looked into his, "I love seeing your hurting, I enjoy it. And you know you…" his voice rose again, "deserve it!"

Again he hit him and threw him against the wall. "No!" cried out Snape, wiping blood from his forehead, "You're killing me, your anger hurts me!"

"Does it now?" laughed Voldemort icily and his hand rose for another hit. Snape dodged and the fist punched the wall. The impact brought a yell of wrath from the Dark Lord and a shudder from Snape who backed to avoid his clenched fists.

"You ungrateful wretch!" shouted Voldemort at the retreating Potions Master. He was backing away from the room with each step Voldemort took, trembling in the invisible cloud of rage covering him. '_Don_'_t be so angry,_' he pleaded in his mind, _'Don't you know that I can_'_t bear your anger? It_'_s like knives stabbing me right into my heart!_'

"Do you really think that Dumbledore cares for you?" asked Voldemort menacingly, "No, dear child, he doesn't. He didn't talk with Lucius about you. Lucius betrayed us to the Ministry, not to Dumbledore."

"But… he mentioned him…"

The hope in Severus's voice fuelled Voldemort's anger even more. "I didn't think you so naive," he laughed, slowly advancing on Snape who kept backing from him and out of the room.

No, of course not, why should Dumbledore care about the man who had betrayed him and had thrown away his second chance? He would have already done something… But the Dark Lord's fury wasn't fading; it held his heard in a painful grip, killing him slowly.

"Please, stop it…" he whispered faintly, and gasped as he was seized roughly, Voldemort shaking him violently. Severus continued looking into the red eyes, ignoring the shaking and yelling as much as he could, feeling the anger washing through every cell of his being and suddenly those hands were gone and he took another step back… back into nothingness and he was falling and falling…

"Severus!"

Voldemort's reflexes weren't fast enough to catch Snape and the Potions Master fell down the staircase, landing down unmoving, no sound coming from him. At the noise Bellatrix, Wormtail and Arenwald rushed in, stopping at the unconscious form of Snape. Startled, they watched their master pale as if he were ill; he had seated himself on the top stair. With a frown Arenwald knelt down to Snape and searched for his pulse.

"He's breathing," he announced, brushing away dark strands of hair to reveal Snape's pale face, "He must have hit himself, but he doesn't seem to have anything broken except…"

The vampire took Snape's hand into his, careful not to hurt him even more. "Except his hand," he finished.

"That is alright," spoke Voldemort, "You take care of him, Bella will go to the Ministry. Don't forget that I want Lucius alive! You can kill everyone else, but not the Order members – capture them. Understood? Now get out of my sight, all of you!"

They scattered quickly – Bellatrix rushing off to gather the Death Eaters, Arenwald and Pettigrew carrying Snape away. Voldemort's blood-red eyes followed the unconscious form of 'his child'.

"The end is near, dear Severus," he laughed quietly.

§§

It was long past visiting hours and the Ministry prison was quiet and peaceful, the few prisoners being asleep in their cots. Lucius Malfoy sat at a table with his head buried in his hands. For hours he had been sitting like that, observed by Remus Lupin hidden under the Invisibility Cloak. Sometimes he sobbed quietly, sometimes he stared at the wall opposite him, and sometimes he just sat there. With his keen senses, Lupin could smell the scent of fear in the air and guilt and despair – all that mixed with a generous amount of self-pity.

'You're such a bastard, Malfoy,' thought Remus, grateful that they had Kingsley among the Aurors. The man had always disgusted him – arrogant, inbred bastard who thought himself above everyone. How come that Severus liked him? Okay, cousins and family… but as far as he remembered, Snape liked no one – except his father and Lucius – what made Malfoy so special?

He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of magical alarm. What had happened? Malfoy too lifted his blond head in confusion. Remus whipped out his wand and in terror watched the place being filled by dark-hooded Death Eaters, attacking the guards and heading straight to him. He knew he had no chance on his own but there were the prison guards and they were outnumbered, he had to help. He threw away his cloak and joined the fighting, wonder how he should alert the Order. After all, if the Death Eaters were here and the Order had gone to save Snape, that's not so bad a situation – for the Order.

"Filthy half-bred!" shrieked a female Death Eater, Lestrange, no doubt. She marched up to him and Remus felt anger boiling in his veins, remembering Sirius's death.

"Still crying after my stupid little cousin?" she mocked him. He was about to cast a spell when something hit him hard from behind and he sank into darkness.

§§

__

To be continued…

**__**

A/N: We have a public holiday today, so I thought why not update the story when I have time? November 17th - that's when Communists fell. And Mervyn Peake died on this day (author of the Gormenghast trilogy). We'_re getting to the end of part 1 soon, very soon – one or two chapters, I'll see. Thank you very much for your reviews. :-)_


	14. Chapter Fourteen

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Chapter Fourteen

When Remus woke up, it was to a sound of someone screaming in pain. He tried to crack an eyelid and winced, his head pounding. He licked his lips and wanted to lift his head, but gasped at the agony caused by motion. Had they drugged him? Someone somewhere in the building didn't stop screaming, but the fog in Remus's head prevented him from identifying who it was. He couldn't make out any words either and where was he anyway? He closed his eyes, wishing that whoever it was screaming would stop; he was developing a bear of a headache. A hand came under his head, lifting it carefully and a glass of water was put to his lips. He swallowed the cool liquid thankfully and opened his eyes to meet those of his former friend – Peter Pettigrew.

Not believing his eyes, he whispered, "Peter?" and reached out a hand to touch him, but the animagus withdrew quickly, cringing. Lupin frowned.

"Where am I?"

"That doesn't have to trouble you, dear Moony. I believe that you're to be disposed off quickly by the Dark Lord."

The werewolf edged himself into more of a sitting position, with his back against the cold wall. "And Snape? Where is he? What happened to him? Who is screaming?"

He listened once more to the pained screams. No, they didn't sound like Snape's. Pettigrew smiled at him. "Not Snape, what a pity! It's Malfoy – for not keeping his mouth shut. Snape is as much a cruel bastard as he has always been, no changes there. What else did you expect in your naïveté?"

The sound of heavy steps silenced him. The door to the cell was thrown open and a man was slammed onto the floor not too gently.

"Have fun in here," laughed Peter and left, leaving the prisoners on their own. Lupin paid him no attention; he crawled over to his new cellmate and turned him onto his back. How ironic that someone as evil and arrogant as Lucius Malfoy could look so angelic! With his pale hair spread under his head like a halo, he was a fallen angel cast down from heaven onto the cold stone floor for all his sins. He moaned in pain and curled into a tight ball, shivering. Voldemort didn't deal with his followers who had disappointed him any better than with his enemies.

"Have you seen Severus?" asked Remus, hoping to get some news on the Potions Master.

Lucius shot him a perfectly Snapish glare. "Don't speak of him to me!" he hissed through his clenched teeth, "It's all his fault!"

__

Sure, Lucius, nothing is ever your fault. Remus closed his eyes, concentrating on his keen werewolf senses. There was a smell of blood in the air, but also another scent – something faint and faded, but still lingering – human and so familiar… Severus had been here. Lupin's quick eyes searched around, seeking more evidence. Pieces of glass, very small and dried blood on them… human blood… traces of food… He picked up one tiny shred of glass and inspected it thoughtfully. "Are you still alive, Severus?"

§§

For a moment Arenwald studied Snape's bandaged hand, then lowered it into his lap carefully. It would have to heal in the Muggle way; the Dark Lord hadn't allowed any magic to be used on him. Not even a potion to ease his pain, nothing, but Snape appeared to be taking it well, he hadn't uttered a word of complaint. He only sat there, apathetic and weary, succumbing to the binding spell. The vampire sighed heavily and began combing the dark hair, massaging cleaning potion into it. They had nothing better to do than wait, so why not do something about Snape's appearance?

When his hair was shining clear and silken, Arenwald chose a finer robe for him – of wine-red colour – and spelled it on him. "See, professor, this colour does wonders to your skin."

He stepped in front of him and frowned, seeing the wizard's face. He hadn't said a word, hadn't moved, but now he turned away to hide tears glistening in the corner of his eyes. The vampire froze.

"Professor, don't… if he sees…" he whispered urgently.

"… he will what, Arenwald?" snapped Voldemort at him, entering the room and heading to Snape who hurried to wipe away the traitorous tears. "Severus is under a lot of pressure, I understand that he feels confused and vulnerable. Is that so, my dear child?"

Severus was staring at him wide-eyed as he sat down next to him and pulled him into an embrace, running his fingers through his silken hair. The younger wizard relaxed visibly, resting his head on Voldemort's shoulder.

"Yes, my lord, forgive me. Is…" he hesitated about asking a question, but continued, "Is Lucius all right? He displeased you, I know, but believe me, although we've always been close friends, he… he didn't know about my betrayal, I swear he's no traitor… he must be hurt by me now and puzzled too…"

"Shhh, don't be afraid. Lucius got his punishment, but I don't wish his death."

"You're merciful, master," mutter Severus into Dark Lord's robes.

"I've got something for you," said Voldemort softly, smiling, "a final test to prove your loyalty. Don't worry, child, you'll enjoy it. And you can test your potion on someone who has a brain."

§§

Remus's feet were barely touching the ground as two powerfully built Death Eaters (Crabbe and Goyle?) were hauling him away from his cell. Not much could be seen in the dark corridor, was there no light in this awful building? Suddenly he noticed a door and without being able to look around, he was thrown into a stone room and the door shut heavily behind him. The only light in the dungeon – it looked like a dungeon – came from two torches illuminating two empty corners; the other two corners were bathed in darkness. Was it supposed to intimidate him? Carefully he sniffed the air for any evil dark creature, but fortunately none was there.

Yet he knew he wasn't alone in the dungeon, there was a human presence, just opposite of him, cloaked by darkness. He squinted into dark, trying to make out the outline of the figure. He saw a low Romanesque arch – three arches actually – and a dark, motionless man seated on a tabernacle in the middle arch. Remus took a deep breath and sniffed again, wanting to smell the man's scent. It hit his nostrils like a good punch with its familiarity. There was a faint scent of camomile, different and foreign to his senses, but underneath it, even without the obligatory unique aroma of potions, was the familiar scent that was Snape.

Once more he squinted into the dark dungeon, forcing his eyes to adapt, and now the outline of tall figure was clear and slowly Snape's white face too emerged from the darkness.

"Remus Lupin," he said, his voice low and silken, laced with ice, but also surprise. Hadn't he expected him? Why was he here, obviously unchained and unrestrained? As if… as if he were one of the Death Eaters… Lupin's blood froze in his veins. Yes, there had to be a price paid for Tarquinius's freedom. The air tingled with dark magic. What was it? Something that only the wolf in him could sense, something unnoticeable to humans and it was coming from Severus, enveloping the Potions Master. Remus frowned; inspecting the now so changed Snape. His hair, his clothes, the expression in his face… what had Voldemort done to him?

"What a surprise from my lord," smiled Snape coldly and Lupin shuddered at hearing him referring to Voldemort as 'my lord'. He raised his hand and crooked a finger to motion him to step forward. Remus took a step towards him and saw how Snape reached for a wand, which lay next to him. His thin fingers curled around its handle gently, slowly caressing the wood with his thumb. Why did he have a wand? All the while the dark eyes were on him, piercing into his mind and they were cold and emotionless. Snape smiled again, lifting a corner of his mouth into a sneer. "I thought that my task would be more difficult," he spoke, arching his fine eyebrow, "but I shouldn't be surprised to see you captured – a Gryffindor, acting first, thinking afterwards."

With that icy smile of his he pointed the wand at Lupin who froze. "Severus… don't… you…" he whispered, astonished, "you don't know what you're doing, Albus…"

"Hates me, I know, I have seen his reaction."

What was he talking about? Remus didn't understand. _'Albus cares for you!' _he wanted to shout, but couldn't, he was frozen on spot and staring at Snape who was watching him with a detached interest.

"Go on, Severus," came a hissing voice from a corner. Voldemort! And he hadn't seen him, hadn't even sensed him, did the man have any human scent? As he emerged from the shadow, Remus felt the air vibrate with dark magic. What was it? Not Imperius, though… yes, it held Snape in its power, not as strongly as Imperius, but it was there…

"Show me that you don't care for the Order anymore, curse him!"

Snape rose from the tabernacle unhurriedly and with the slow elegance of a snake, his silken wine-red robes whispering at every slight movement.

"Severus, you don't want to do that…" said Lupin, retreating.

"You have no idea what I want, Lupin," sneered Snape, toying with his wand. Remus thought that the way he played with it reminded him all too much of Voldemort.

"You're not yourself…"

"Crucio!"

The curse interrupted Lupin's sentence, giving him no room for reasoning. He fell onto his knees, crying out in pain. Somewhere as if in distance he heard cold laughter, probably Voldemort's. Fortunately Snape didn't hold him under Cruciatus too long; he lifted the curse and knelt down to him, inspecting him closely. Whatever dark magic was enveloping Severus, it got even stronger after using an Unforgivable, pulling the Potions Master in, taking hold of him. Dark magic was addictive and powerful.

"Severus…" moaned Lupin – more in psychological torment than physical pain, "don't… you… can't you feel it?"

"I don't know what you're babbling about. I suppose that now when you're familiar with Cruciatus, you'll be able to tell me the difference between that and…" he pulled a small vial from his pocket, "this. Much as I loathe to admit it, you do have a brain and intelligence."

A compliment from Snape was never a good thing. Lupin eyed the vial suspiciously when Snape grabbed his head and forced its content down his throat. He gulped, staring wide-eyed into the merciless black eyes and then everything went dark and he screamed as loud as he never had before.

Severus rose to his feet, watching the werewolf trashing on the floor in agony until he didn't lost consciousness. Strong arms embraced him from behind and the Dark Lord laughed into his ear. "I'm afraid he won't tell you the difference so soon. I'm proud of you, Severus. Are you truly and completely loyal to me?"

"Yes."

"You're mine."

"Yes," acknowledged Snape, then dropped down to his knees in front of Voldemort. "Forgive me my betrayal, master. Ask anything you want of me, I'm yours to serve."

He bowed his head in submission, bringing the hem of Dark Lord's robes to his lips, not seeing Voldemort's smirk of satisfaction. At that moment Arenwald ran into the dungeon, looking nervous.

"My lord, there're Aurors all around and possibly Dumbledore too and…"

Voldemort only smiled calmly, caressing Snape's hair. "Very well, calm down. Get Bellatrix and Lucius, he needs to persuade me of his loyalties, those two will command the fight. I…" he looked down at Snape, "have one last thing here to settle with out little traitorous spy."

§§

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TBC…

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Author's Notes: Hmm, what do you say to it? Snape torturing Lupin, I suppose that Lupin fans are beginning to be quite angry with Snape, don't you? Don't worry, Remus will be all right, he's a strong guy. Oh yes, I promised an up-date sooner, but I'm rather lazy these days and spending a lot of time with my boyfriend and friends. Thank you VERY MUCH for your reviews. :-)


	15. Chapter Fifteen

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Chapter Fifteen

Harry was indeed proud of himself. He had convinced Mundungus Fletcher to buy him a vial of Polyjuice Potion (the man would have done anything for money and a bottle of fine whiskey) and now good old Dung lay drunk hidden at Grimmauld Place while Harry had joined the Order looking like him. The fact that the effect of potion would last for only an hour was something he didn't trouble himself with; he would have to deal with it later when the time came. It was almost hilarious that no one had noticed he wasn't Fletcher. When Shacklebolt had informed them of Aurors' plans, Dumbledore had hurried to reach Snape sooner than them. Unfortunately, both groups arrived at the same time to what looked like a harmless, pretty country house and then chaos ensued.

§§

A low branch of a tree got caught in Snape's fine new robes. It tore at them as he hurried after the Dark Lord who was dragging him away from the house. He nearly stumbled on a rock, but didn't complain as he felt something strange radiating from Voldemort to him through the bond. Uncertainty hit him, settling on his heart like a black raven as he was led further into a forest. He tried to calm down, thinking about the potion he had given to Lupin. It had effected him stronger than Pettigrew, why? Weren't werewolves supposed to be stronger than humans? Especially humans like this pitiful excuse of a wizard. On the other hand… when had the last Full Moon been? Lupin always appeared ill after the transformation, ill and tired, and he hadn't had any Wolfsbane to help him. Had he killed him?

So what if he had? What did it matter that there was one bloodthirsty monster less in the world? The Dark Lord had been pleased. Severus smiled at the thought, yet feeling something weird creeping into his heart; it gave him no peace. Fear.

What was his master planning to do? Why were they going deeper into the forest? Snape clutched his wounded hand to his chest and felt how wildly his heart was beating. Fear.

"Hurry up, Snape!" yelled Voldemort angrily, speeding up and Severus gasped as fear gripped him stronger. Why that anger in the tone? Why 'Snape' and not 'dear child' or 'Severus'? He stumbled on a rock and nearly fell, but the Dark Lord grabbed his hair and although it prevented him from falling, the pain of it sent tears into Snape's eyes. He cried out, his vision blurred. Voldemort laughed dryly and taking hold of his wrists, he pinned Snape to a tree. Again he smiled and gently, almost affectionately, he ran his fingers through the younger wizard's silken hair. Enjoying his fear, he bent to his ear and whispered softly, "You're afraid of me, Severus."

The shudder that shook Snape's body brought another smile to Voldemort's face, his stomach contracted with excitement… with expectation. "Tell Lord Voldemort why you fear him."

Severus closed his eyes and swallowed. What was happening to him, why suddenly this fear? It was the Dark Lord, his master, he had nothing to be afraid of, he had shown his loyalty, had killed and tortured for him again…

"Lord Voldemort is waiting."

His heart was beating very fast now and when he opened his eyes, he saw the Dark Lord's scarlet, slit-pupilled eyes staring at him.

"Because…" he whispered, "I've always respected you greatly, your power, your ideas…"

"Did you now, my little Judas?" smiled Voldemort, caressing Snape's cheeks with his spidery fingers. Severus leaned into the touch, enjoying the cold comfort it falsely provided. "Would you have served me if I hadn't put this binding spell on you?"

"Yes, I would."

"Yes, eventually you would, you have no one else who trusts you, no other option. It that so, Severus?" Voldemort asked while one of his hands slipped to Snape's neck, never stopping its caress.

"Yes, I have no one but you."

"Do you trust me? Do you want to serve me again? Are you willing to re-join the dark side?"

The red eyes were intent on Snape's. "Yes, master."

"Will you serve me and only me?"

"Yes, master"

An ugly smile spread through Voldemort's lips. "Good."

The hand on Severus's neck stilled while the Dark Lord was gazing into Snape's eyes.

Snape too tensed, waiting nervously.

Slowly the emotionless look in Voldemort's blood-coloured eyes gave way to rage and Snape became vividly aware of the fact that he was in danger. Very quiet he went, raising his eyebrow in mute question.

Voldemort laughed. "Very well, Severus. Can you feel my emotions now? What can you feel?"

No answer was heard from Snape who was staring at him wide-eyed and frozen. The ghastly white face of his master leaned to his and his hand took hold of Severus's bandaged wrist. Snape shook his head, unable to utter a word. Instead he reached out and touched Voldemort's face – very softly, with fingers trembling and pleading silently. The Dark Lord jerked away, glaring at him angrily. "How dare you touch me with that treacherous hand? CRUCIO!"

Snape cried out and crumpled to the ground. In an instant, Voldemort's hand smacked him across the face before he saw it coming. Pain shot into him like a white-hot iron fist, worse than he had ever known, squeezing the air from his lungs in a heart-wrenching fear. Where he intended a scream, he managed only a faint moan, so intense was the pain – pain caused by hatred and anger he could feel through the bond.

"Stop, please…" he gasped, but Voldemort went on. He kicked him hard into the ribs and cursed him again and again until Snape lay limp, shaking and crying on the ground.

"Surely you didn't think I deal mercifully with traitors?" smirked the Dark Lord and walked over to where Snape lay. He placed one booted foot on his chest to still his weak struggles. "It's a pity, though," he said conversationally, "I appreciated working with you. You _had_ a brilliant mind…" the foot pressed hard on his ribcage, "Pity, pity, pity."

A dagger flashed in Voldemort's hand, Severus recognised it as the one he had used to bind him. "No," he whispered in horror and began to struggle, trying to escape. But the Dark Lord had his hand immediately in his hair, preventing it.

"Where would you like to go, child?" he asked playfully, pressing the dagger against Snape's throat.

At the look in the dark eyes he laughed and yanked Severus's head back, exposing the white skin of his throat. The pressure increased and a few drops of blood coloured the shining blade. Severus gasped and watching him, Voldemort bent to his throat and planted a kiss there, licking away the warm drops. He laughed against the skin, feeling his victim shudder in fear.

"You have no idea how sweet pure blood is," he murmured, and without warning bit hard down on Snape's neck.

Snape screamed, trying to push his master away. Although he had never been good in "Muggle way of fighting", he had no wand now to defend himself and no other way just to launch at Voldemort, determined to fight for his life. The Dark Lord had always been one of those men whose mere presence was enough to ignite aggression. Snape grabbed Voldemort's wrist firmly, hoping for him to drop the dagger and Voldemort gripped Snape's injured hand, grinding the frail bones together.

"I'm stronger, Severus," grinned the Dark Lord, studying the pained face of his Death Eater. Snape let go of his hand and in an instant, Voldemort stabbed him under the ribs.

The younger wizard ceased his struggles, he stiffened and the dark eyes shot wide open, then narrowed in pain. A glistening pearl of a tear escaped the corner of his eye, trickling down the white cheek. Severus closed his eyes and moaned as Voldemort withdrew the dagger and stood up, taking a step backwards.

He regarded the broken form of his once faithful Death Eater with loathing. The way he lay there, his bandaged hand open beside him, his face turned to the Dark Lord; it made his blood boil. He gathered him up just to slam him down again and beat him. His knee drove into his chest; he pinned him down, strangling him, clutching at his neck. Severus turned his head from side to side, his eyes growing bigger in horror, saying nothing. When he felt him weak and limp, Voldemort rose and pointed his wand at him.

"You don't deserve death, traitor," he hissed. Slowly and carefully, he invoked the bond to become visible – a thin green rope coming from him and binding Snape, who groaned weakly, "No, please…"

"I hope you can feel my hatred, my disappointment," he laughed, "because now I severe the bond!"

He raised the dagger… "No, no… oh, please…"

Let it glow hypnotically in the light for Severus to see, practically feeding on his fear and pain, and then severed the magical bond swiftly.

Snape cried out, feeling as if the sharp blade had cut into his heart.

His eyes closed, his head rolled to a side and unconsciousness spread its dark wings over him.

§§

Harry was careful to avoid the battle. There was only one thing he wanted to do – find the greasy git. Curse him. Kill him. Or whatever, cause him pain. He longed for seeing him suffering, the cruel sadist. He should suffer for everything he had done, for betraying Dumbledore and the Weasleys, he so deserved it.

The battle field was a chaos… Aurors were angry with Dumbledore and the Order, but eventually they were sensible enough to unite against the Death Eaters. Harry noticed Lucius Malfoy giving out orders. Why him? Where was Voldemort?

He moved from one hiding place to another, determined not to be seen. What would Dumbledore do if he saw him? Suddenly he was feeling guilty. Dumbledore had always protected him and now he goes without his consent off to a battle. But the headmaster had been too soft to Snape…

He heard a scream, away from the battlefield. He cast one last look at the fighting wizards (Malfoy fought with Dumbledore himself) and rushed off after the sound.

And there he found him, lying in grass and unmoving. Harry pointed his wand at him, feeling adrenaline running in his veins. Here was the moment. There he was, on his own, and the greasy git was… was he unconscious? How come? The battle hadn't come this far yet. Was he hurt?

With a sigh he sat into the grass, his eyes fixed on Snape. He couldn't kill a defenceless man, not even this traitor. He, a Gryffindor, shouldn't lower himself to the level of Slytherins. Then again, he doubted he would have killed him had he been conscious. He had wanted him to beg, to plead for his life, that would have been pretty satisfying. But this moment of stillness, it was a misery.

Snape's face was turned to him; his eyes closed and… were his cheeks wet? Harry shuddered at the thought. His eyes took in the bruised lips which were slightly open and shining with drops of blood, the horrid whiteness of the face, more blood on the neck… A powerful feeling of satisfaction washed over Harry and he thought he might be sick. Snape was injured, that shouldn't please him. That was so very wrong and although he knew he, he couldn't quite fight it.

He crawled a bit closer to him and hesitated, then quickly swept away the dark hair (Soft and silken, that was terrifying!) and checked for a pulse. Alarmingly faint it was, but it was there. Was he dying? He could smell blood in the air and Snape's hand… the bandages were soaked up with blood and there was blood on his robes… too much blood. It lingered in the air, everywhere around, mixed with something very dark, very evil. Harry stood up, his face horror-stricken.

"So here he is," came a cold voice from behind his back, causing Harry to flinch. It belonged to one of the Aurors; Harry had already seen him once in Dumbledore's office.

"Murderer," he spat and kicked the unconscious Potions Master, "I hope that Dementors will give him their best treatment."

This time Harry shuddered, unable to take his eyes off Snape's pale face. "I should have killed you," he murmured.

§§

End of Part 1

TBC…

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Author's notes: Don't worry, this is not yet the end, just end of the first part, I'll continue soon. Sorry that this up-date took me so long, somehow this chapter was incredibly difficult to write. I'm feeling all cheery and happy, that may be the reason (when I started the story, I was feeling pretty depressed and sad, so it was easy to write). I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and yay for JKR! I wanted to up-date the story on the day when she announced she finished the HBP, I switched on the PC and saw the news… I just couldn't concentrate on anything, especially not on something sad.

Thank you very much for your reviews and big thanks to those who reviewed by other story too (Amaurotum – difficult this tittle is…).


	16. Chapter Sixteen

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Title: Venomous II, Part II

(A Story in Two Parts)

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Author: Phinea Rogue

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Rating: PG-13

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Characters: Severus Snape and some others (Tarquinius Snape, Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, Auror Dawlish…)

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"Long is the way

And hard, that out of hell leads to light."

John Milton

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§

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Chapter Sixteen

A dark shape on the floor shifted a little when a streak of light fell upon it and like a wounded animal moved into a corner in the vain hope of finding safety there. Auror Dawlish smirked and walked over to the prisoner who shivered at the threatening clang of his heavy boots. Since they had captured the Death Eater, he was slipping in and out of consciousness, never truly aware of what was happening around him, except for… He had already learnt of the Auror and even if not fully awake, the prisoner could always recognise the steps. And so Severus, dizzy from the blood loss and excruciating bleed of the magical wound caused by Voldemort's spell, shrank back from the unwelcomed sound like a sleeping person struggling to get away from monsters in a nightmare. Dawlish was, certainly, well aware of this subconscious fear, for he had created it himself. No comfort had he offered to the Death Eater and only minimum healing (Fudge wanted him alive for a trial) needed for him so that he wouldn't bleed to death.

With disgust etched into the lined of his face, Dawlish hooked one foot under Snape and effortlessly flipped him over. The prisoner groaned weakly, his eyelids fluttered briefly, but did not open. With satisfaction Dawlish noted the unhealthy paleness of his skin and prominent cheekbones. He knelt down to him and touched his cheek lightly. Snape recoiled from the touch, turning his face to the other side. Again Dawlish smirked, the Death Eater was burning in fever, it served him right!

"My dear, are you ill?" he asked in mock concern, "Well, well, well… I've brought you something more suitable to wear here. These clothes…" he yanked at Snape's fine wine-red robes, "are far too noble for this accommodation and you sure don't want to feel so out of place here."

The Auror tore the robes from the prisoner's body, oblivious to his injuries, and not too gently forced an old, grey tunic onto him. "Now this is better," he smiled, savouring the moments when Snape had flinched under his fingers. The man obviously didn't like to be touched which was an information Dawlish found most useful.

For a moment Severus opened his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy and he saw only a blurry silhouette of the Auror. He scowled at him, trying to clear his vision and see who it was that was hurting him, but it cost him too much of his strength. A hand gripped his jaw tightly.

"Yes, Snape, do look at me. Look me in the eye, you murderer!" shouted the ghost-like Auror at him. "This is your end. You won't escape the Kiss this time!"

The Kiss… Dementors… a shudder…

Cold. Hard. Stone.

Snape couldn't make much out of his surroundings. He couldn't keep his eyes open, the cold floor underneath him was spinning and it wasn't solid enough to keep him from falling. His limbs were leaden, the only picture clear in his mind was that of the Dark Lord, but when he wanted to reach out to him, he found out that he couldn't, that he had fallen too far… His arms were heavy and his body bleeding and there was nothing to save him from the fall.

Darkness had enveloped him, obscuring his vision and it was pain, pain everywhere and all around, pain in his heart… He clutched a hand to his chest and rolled to a side, with his back to the blurry greyness laughing at him.

A hand on his forehead… _Murderer! … Death Eater! … Kiss!_

"He looks like hell. Is he ill?"

Dawlish turned to look at Alastor Moody who had just entered the cell. "Nothing serious. Fudge wants him alive, of course, he'll survive. Possibly…" he shrugged.

"Survive for the Kiss."

"A murderer such as himself deserves it."

"Yes. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. I was right not to trust him, but you know what Albus is like. He would see something good in Lucifer himself."

The statement brought a content smile to Dawlish's face. He gestured for Moody to come and have a closer look at Snape.

Without a warning, Moody grabbed Snape's shoulders and slammed him hard against the wall. "How much did you tell him, you death eating scum?" he yelled in an attempt to pierce the heavy mist surrounding Snape's mind. He felt him flinch under his touch and shudder, though his eyes remained closed and his head lolled to a side weakly.

"You won't get much out of him now, I'm afraid, Alastor."

Moody tightened his grip, unwilling to let go of him and shook Snape violently, determined to shake the answer out of him. But the prisoner remained unresponsive; fuelling Mad-Eye's fury with his silence.

"Answer me, you filth!" he yelled, "Look at me!"

He had his hand in Snape's hair now, holding him upright in a sitting position, and the tip of his wand pressed against his forehead. "Ennervate!"

Dawlish laughed when Snape's eyes flew open, revealing the fright in them, which gave way to a silent plea.

"Traitor!" hissed Moody, his face inches from Snape's. He bent his head to his ear to whisper, "I knew better than to trust you, scum."

After a slight tremor, Snape's eyes closed again, allowing him to slip back into his feverish nightmares. Moody let go of him, watching him slid limply to the ground. "I can't wait to see him Kissed," he muttered and stood up. With one last glance at the prisoner, full of contempt and disgust, he left the cell to report to Dumbledore the state Snape was in.

§§

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was deserted save for one breathing person and one ghost hovering above him and glaring. Harry sighed and dragged himself straight to the man sitting (half-laying) at the Slytherin table. He had a bottle of firewhiskey on display in front of him and two empty glasses. Had he been drinking with the Bloody Baron, emptying 'the ghost's glass' too? The boy shook his head and took a seat opposite of him, waiting quietly for Tarquinius to notice him. After a few moments of silence, the Senior Snape became aware of someone else than just the ghost studying him and he raised his heavy head to look into Harry's eyes.

"You here?" he smirked, "Why?"

"I've got detention. With Filch," said Harry, scowling, and added, "Till the beginning of the new term."

"Ah yes," laughed Tarquinius, "I've heard of your… heroism. Going off to a battle… are all the Gryffindors this stupid?"

Harry felt a rush of blood to his cheeks and angrily he jumped from his seat. What was Tarquinius thinking? Insulting him like that…

"Calm down, lad," smiled Snape and filled the glasses with firewhiskey, "Come, have a drink with me."

"Haven't you promised your son never to drink again and start healing?"

"My son?"

Tarquinius leaned comfortably into his chair; fixing Harry with is ruthless grey eyes. He looked like he was going to say something biting and cruel, but changed his mind when his heart skipped a beat. _My son. _A sharp pang of pain struck through him like a knife and a mist of tears came across his eyes. "I have no son," he said and felt as if a hand of ice had been lain upon his heart. Was he cruel? Heartless?

It was Severus's fault, not his. Severus had disappointed him. Severus hadn't been strong enough to resist the Dark Lord's temptations. He had murdered. Aurors had said that he had used another Unforgivable too and that had happened when he was already free from the Dark Lord. Therefore Severus couldn't have done it in order to save him… no, no… Yet a feeling of regret came over him as he thought of him locked in Azkaban. He hadn't gone to see him, but Harry… Harry…

"There, in the battle, you've seen him."

"Yes."

"And? What was he like?" pressed Tarquin.

"Why do you care?" frowned the teen. One minute Tarquinius hated his son, the other he cared for him. Couldn't he been less confusing? "You hate him."

"I don't. I'm only disappointed in him."

"That's worse that hatred," objected Harry, "But well, he… didn't look well and was a lot different."

"How different?"

"Different. His hair, his clothes…" Harry shifted in the seat, this wasn't a comfortable conversation, "I wanted to make him suffer, but I … couldn't kill him. Now Dementors will have him."

They both shuddered and suddenly Tarquinius's face drained of all colour as the words sank in. "No!" he thundered and his mouth twitched as he remembered his years spent in Azkaban. He passed his trembling hand across his sweaty forehead and felt panic creeping over him. "No, no…" he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. He glanced wildly around, an uncontrollable feeling of fear coming over him. "Not Severus, they can't… my child, my only child!"

His hands flew into his hair, clawing at it, tearing, while horrible thoughts raced through his mind. He sank to the ground, now sobbing quietly and Bloody Baron drifted off to bring in Tarquinius's healer. A horrible sense of sickness overtook Harry as he watched the older Snape suffer. Never before had he thought that Snape, that greasy git, was someone's child. He didn't know what to think anymore, there was an empty hollow in his chest and confusion in his mind. 'Snape deserves the Kiss,' he attempted to persuade himself, but looking at the broken figure of Tarquinius, he dared not to voice his thoughts. It was horrific, it was painful and terrific, and he was most thankful for the healer's soon arrival.

§§

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Thank you very much for all your wonderful reviews! The next chapter I don't know when will be ready, because I should also study for my exam and up-date my other story, but I'll do my best. But exam is most important, I'm sorry. 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

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Chapter Seventeen

"Your name is Remus John Lupin, am I right?"

"Yes."

"And you're a werewolf," stated the Auror while regarding Remus Lupin through his glasses. The werewolf cringed slightly at the piercing cold look and whispered, "Yes."

"Funny what kind of 'people' Dumbledore allows to enter Hogwarts," murmured Auror Dawlish loud enough for Lupin to hear, "Well," he sighed and took a deep breath, "How long do you know Snape?"

"Since we were eleven, we were schoolmates."

The Auror scribed something into his notes while shaking his head.

"Then you should know him well. Did you know that he's You-Know-Who's follower?"

Remus shot him an angry glare. "He's a spy for the light side."

"Ah yes, a spy…" sighed the Auror and look at Remus sharply, "What has '_the spy' _done to you? You've been here in St Mungo's since the attack, why?"

"But Severus…"

"No but's, please. What did he do?"

"He used Cruciatus on me and some unknown potion, his own creation. The potion caused me great pain and…"

"It didn't interact well with your lycantrophy. Fine then, that is all for now. Thank you, Mr Lupin."

The Auror was about to leave, but Remus called after him, "What's happened to Severus?"

"He's in Azkaban, paying dearly," smirked Dawlish, "A healer is seeing him today, so I must hurry. Good-bye, Mr Lupin."

After he left, Remus curled on his side, burying his head in a pillow and groaning softly. What had Severus used on him? He nearly wept from pain, which seemed like never wanting to leave him. Had he known that it would have this long-lasting effect on him? Severus wasn't the type of person making mistakes when brewing potions, but he had also said something about an experiment… _'Damn you, Severus!'_ cursed Remus in his mind, _'How could you so easily yield to him?' _Then again, for someone who had already been caught up in dark arts, it was difficult not to yield into temptation once more. And Remus had a feeling that Voldemort had 'helped' Severus to return. Although Remus was well aware of all this, he had felt something dark around Severus… it pained him to see him back at Voldemort's side. It disappointed him. He had believed Severus strong and loyal to Dumbledore. Whatever had Voldemort done, it hadn't been the Imperius Curse. Besides, he knew that Snape was able to fight Imperius well, he had once seen him doing it. But now… Severus was again calling Voldemort 'my lord' and doing his biding. Down in that dungeon, he had reminded him all too much of Voldemort and how cold and cruel his eyes had been!

And the Cruciatus – he had meant it, it had been powerful and well done. As another wave of pain crushed through his body, Remus realised that he was angry with Severus. He didn't like the feeling and didn't wish for death or Kiss for him, but he was angry. Designing torture potions – Snape had been doing that for longer, he was sure. "Oh," he moaned in pain, "Why didn't you stay clear of the Dark Arts, Severus?"

§§

"The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, hell of heaven," whispered a soft, satin voice while its owner hugged his knees tightly to his chest, shivering in the cold cell. He couldn't stop trembling – pain, cold, fear and emptiness… and Dementors. Only a few of them remained in Azkaban, but that was enough for the imprisoned Death Eater, particularly because they guarded him almost constantly. He shook his head, attempting to clear it.

"Still in mood for poetry?" asked another voice, cold like the sharpest blade, mocking him. It belonged to the Auror Dawlish.

He stepped slowly into the cell and the dark wizard met his ruthless eyes. An evil, sadistic grin was plastered in his face and Snape involuntarily shivered, closing his eyes. He wished the Auror would leave, why was this one always guarding him?

Then another man came in, this time a healer who knelt down to Snape. "Your clothes," he commanded sharply. Severus hesitated. His clothing consisted only of boxers and an old, frayed tunic and he felt cold, so very cold, not willing to expose his body to even more coldness. However, Auror Dawlish was not a patient man.

A slap brought some faint colour to the prisoner's pale cheek. The Auror put the tip of his wand to Snape's forehead and hissed, "I advise you to obey, Snape."

Yet he didn't wait to see if the prisoner would obey, again he hit him and started to undress him, his hands brutal on Snape's wounds. Finding no strength to fight, Severus closed his eyes, drifting away into his mind. Not that it was a pleasant place there – the slow bleed of the binding spell was excruciating – but at least he could pretend to be alone. The healer was quick and quiet, he inspected and washed the wounds and ordered Snape to get dressed. He obeyed quickly, shivering in the cold air caressing his skin. The healer left, but the Auror stayed, towering above the silent wizard.

"Are you cold, Snape?" he asked softly. Severus looked up to see his mocking face and the wand pointed at him. His fingers touched his cheek lightly, causing him to flinch, "Oh yes, you're so very cold, aren't you?"

Yes, he was cold, his feet and hands were numb and icy, and the coldness was hurting him as sure as some slow curse working secretly. A coughing fit shook his weakened body and Snape was cursing that it had to choose this precise moment. He heard Dawlish's laughter while his lungs almost exploded with pain.

"Is he ill?" came another, more familiar voice. Moody. With his hand over his mouth, Severus turned to glare at the ex-Auror who glared back. Now and then Moody came to see him, probably on Dumbledore's orders, though Dumbledore had never shown up.

"No worries, Alastor, the healer's just left," replied Dawlish, "I suppose it's a bit cold down here."

"Well, one would think that traitorous little snakes enjoy coldness. Is it so, Snape?" rose Moody's voice, "How do you like it here?"

For not answering he was again hit by the Auror. This time Snape groaned as the back of his skull painfully connected with the hard wall. Moody laughed sadly and knelt down to him. Both his eyes fixed Snape's dark ones which were slightly veiled. Severus flinched when he put his hand to his chest, looking back at him confused. He realised now how much his lungs were aching and Moody smiled. "But you aren't that much fond of coldness, are you?"

"Go to hell, Moody," whispered Snape, barely moving his lips. Moody smiled again, an unnerving smile for Snape.

"I guess that you're already there, Snape. How do you feel alone, completely alone?"

Snape hugged himself, bowing his head. He wasn't alone… he could still feel (though every day less and less) the Dark Lord through the severed bond. The Dark Lord would save him; he had punished him enough… Or Lucius would, his only cousin and close friend.

"How much did you tell Voldemort?" pushed Moody, hoping that maybe this time he would get answers. After all, Snape look a bit better than the last time he had seen him.

But Snape was refusing to answer. "Damn you, Snape, answer me!" shouted Moody at him. "Have you gone over to him completely? Why did he leave you there on your own, injured and unconscious?"

No answer again. Snape closed his eyes, drifting away into his mind, away from the cold cell and Moody's questions. He clung to the remaining traces of the bond – the only comfort provided to him in this hostile place.

Alastor had never liked Snape, but seeing him like this – shivering in the dark cell, hugging his knees, his eyes closed tight – he couldn't help not to be saddened by it. This wasn't the Snape he had known. This one was different, resigned, lost. Moody hated this war and hated Voldemort for making this man so cold and empty, enslaving this brilliant and clever young man in darkness.

He gripped his shoulders tight, noticing how he flinched at the contact. "Snape, speak to me!" he shook him, "Damn it, speak to me! How could you return to him! How? Why?"

He shook him violently, Snape's silence fuelling his anger. What was he supposed to do to get his talk? Dumbledore, who wasn't allowed to visit Snape, wanted him to talk to him, but how when the snake was refusing to co-operate? He grabbed his arm and pushed up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark. Snape's eyes opened as he bowed his head to look at the ugly mark. The Dark Lord's mark… He would save him, certainly he would. He had punished him enough, surely he didn't want him dead or Kissed…

As if reading his thoughts, Moody smiled sadly at him, "Snape, don't think that you mean anything to Voldemort. Please, try to co-operate with Aurors. Albus will make everything in his power to help you, but forget Voldemort."

"I can't, Moody," said Snape softly. "I'm a murderer, a torturer. Who else could like me than him? He knows me so well. Yes, he's cruel and… and… " he fell quiet again, withdrawing further into his corner. "Let me be, please."

"As you wish," sighed the former Auror, leaving the prisoner alone. "I'll return tomorrow. Remember that I'm coming to see you on Dumbledore's orders, Snape."

Snape looked at him without any expression in his face. Then he smirked a bit and turned away from Moody.

§§

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Author's notes: I'm not totally satisfied with this chapter, but I guess that I can't really make it any better at the moment. Moody is not as bad as he may appear, in his own way he cares (a bit) for Snape now when he sees him weak and imprisoned. Thank you very much for reviewing, you're all wonderful!


	18. Chapter Eighteen

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Chapter Eighteen

For a few moments Lucius couldn't pry his eyes away from Bellatrix's high-heeled sandal dangling tantalisingly from the tips of her bare toes. The slow, languid movement kept him mesmerised, capturing his attention. He frowned, jumped from his seat and began pacing the room they were sitting in. "Worried for your dear little Severus?" Bellatrix's mocking voice reached him, "Oh, how cute, how touching! Did you love him? Such a weakness, coming from a Malfoy…"

Furious, Lucius whirled around to glare at her. "Shut your mouth, Bella."

"Or what?" she laughed, letting the sandal fall from her foot. Never leaving his eyes, she sipped at hot cocoa, holding the cup with both hands. "I've never seen you so … nervous… so weak," she whispered with menace, "You're slowly crumpling, Lucius. Why? What's he to you?"

"What's he to me…" he murmured, "He doesn't deserve the Kiss, not Severus."

"Oh, do lecture me, Lucius. What does a traitor deserve?"

"Death, torture… not this. Damn him!" he shouted as he brought his fist down on a table, "I… I don't want him dead or kissed! I want the good old Severus back…"

"Not the traitor Severus…" smiled Bellatrix, "but the vicious little cousin of yours. Well, well, you'll need to forget him. You'll have to choose between our lord and Severus. You can go on moaning and sighing about it, but you still know who you'll choose, so quit your moaning."

"Do you?" came a voice from the doors not belonging to neither Bellatrix, nor Lucius, "For your sake I hope you choose well."

Lucius's eyes lingered on Voldemort's face, taking in the mocking half-smile and narrowed crimson eyes. At his feet his loyal Nagini hissed and he hissed something back at her. The Death Eater felt a shudder rip through his body at the sound of the parseltoungue. Still smiling, Voldemort walked over to him and gently tilted Malfoy's head up with an ice-cold finger, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Luciusss, my friend," he hissed, "I see doubts in your soul. How… disappointing."

"I do not doubt you or your ideas, my lord…"

"Shh, Lucius," Voldemort said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "Be quiet or you'll say something that…" his finger ran over Malfoy's lips lightly, "… will displease me. Do not question the way of how I've dealt with Snape. Do not show me your weakness. I loathe seeing it. It…" his hand suddenly clutched at the Death Eater's throat, "it disgusts me, Lucius!"

He slammed him into a wall, fingers tightening around his throat. Lucius gasped as a gurgling sound escaped him. He heard Bellatrix laugh loudly and Nagini hiss. Voldemort's lips came to his ear, whispering, "I have a special punishment just for the case you choose badly. And I've got someone to aid you into the right direction. Do you see how kind and forgiving I can be?"

Feeling his heart beating painfully against his chest, Lucius was well aware of his fear immobilising him. Whatever the Dark Lord was up to, it certainly wouldn't be kind and forgiving.

"Arenwald!" called out the Dark Lord and once again Bellatrix laughed while Lucius found himself thrown to the feet of the dark creature.

§§

Like a desperate animal, Lucius struggled wildly to tear the vampire's grip away and pull himself loose. He was bruised from the efforts as he struck him again and again with no success, with hands that were too soft, too weak and only mortal. He screamed and kicked, but nothing he was doing proved to be enough to stop the dark creature. The vampire had him pinned to the hard ground, a sharp dagger shining in his right hand.

"Let go of me, you disgusting creature!" he shouted at him, through his voice trembled. Never had he been getting along well with this… this scum, this filthy monster. Blood-sucking monster, how could have the Dark Lord allowed someone like him into their noble and pureblood ranks? Blood was leaking from the slashes he had inflicted and Lucius whimpered in fear and pain. All this was Severus's fault. Severus, always getting into problems… always and pulling him with himself.

"Stop," he breathed out, willing to plead for his life. Life was more important than some stupid pride.

Laughter came as an answer to his pleas. "How delicious, for someone as arrogant and prejudiced, to become the creature you detest. Will you loathe yourself, Malfoy?"

Arenwald lowered his mouth to a wound, sucking out blood. Hmm, delicious… Lucius froze in horror, finding himself unable to move. "Please," he whispered, "please, don't… Arenwald, I beg you…"

The vampire ripped open Malfoy's robe at his neck, revealing the white skin and smiled when he saw him shut his eyes tight. As if he could shut him out… Oh, to have this arrogant, self-conceited wizard in his power who had never shown him respect or at least good manners!

"No, I'll do anything!" groaned Malfoy.

"Anything?" laughed Arenwald, pushing the dagger against Lucius's neck, enjoying the situation greatly, though something strange was starting to gnaw at him. He dismissed the feeling and concentrated on his victim. "You're such an arrogant, egoistic bastard, Malfoy."

"Oh yes, he is, Lucius is," said Voldemort, leaning against a wall, "Am I right, my slippery friend?"

"Don't let him do this to me, master!" screamed Lucius, resuming his furious struggles.

"If I asked of you to kill Severus, would you do it?" asked the Dark Lord coldly, his eyes glowing.

"Yes, yes! Just don't let him…"

"Would you torture him?"

"Yes! Anything!"

"Rather him than you, am I right?" smiled Voldemort and added softly, "There goes your love for your cousin."

Lucius nodded wordlessly.

"Very well. You may leave, Arenwald."

The vampire stood up, regarding Malfoy contemptuously. Without a glance at Voldemort, he rushed away from the two dark wizards, trying to collect his racing thoughts.

§§

"Where do you think you're going…"

"Guess where."

"You're not allowed to go there!"

"I am! As his father, I can see him whenever I feel like it!"

"You don't have permission…"

"Bugger off, kid. I know the law; I'm not stupid! I spent years in here."

"No, Mr. Snape, you can't…"

The heavy door to his cell opened and a streak of light fell upon the stone floor. Severus remained lying in his cot, with his back to the door. He discovered he could not will himself to turn around or that to speak would require too much effort. Everything around him had blurred into grayness as coldness was creeping under his skin, making him shiver and cough. A strong arm came around him, pulling him close to his father's broad chest, until he could hear the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat and feel his breath at the back of his neck.

"Severus," whispered Tarquinius into his son's tangled hair, "What have you done? What have they done to you?"

He made him turn around gently, let Severus bury his head into his shoulder while he began caressing his back. Through the thin material of his tunic he could feel bones under his skin. Severus must have lost some weigh and there was also heat rising from his body… was he feverish? Damned Aurors, they never cared much for prisoners' health.

"What are you doing here? I thought that Dawlish wouldn't let anyone see him."

Tarquinius rolled his eyes at the sight of Alastor Moody entering the cell. The expression in his face was telling him clearly that he was not welcomed, but the former Auror didn't seem to notice it. His gaze fell upon Severus's skin, which was sickly pale, even paler than usual.

"Is he alright?"

"Does he seem alright to you, oh mighty Auror?"

It was time for Moody to roll his eyes, irritated by the older Snape's mocking voice. "I mean it, Snape. When I visited him yesterday, he didn't seem to be doing well, but Dawlish assured me that a healer saw to him. However, he doesn't seem to be doing any better."

"A healer – what a noble word for these Azkaban charlatans!"

Moody approached the two Snapes and put his hand on Severus's forehead. His skin was hot to the touch and yet he was shivering in cold. He frowned. Clearly Tarquinius was right about the quality of the Azkaban healers. The younger Snape need a good healer and he needed him now.

"He's burning up," he murmured, "Fine, I'll speak to Dawlish. I'll persuade him to let a St Mungo's healer examine him. After all, I don't think he would want him to die of pneumonia or something like that."

Once again he frowned at Severus who seemed to take no notice of what was happening around him. He was either weakened by Dementors and imprisonment or there was something different going on with him. And the coldness of the cell clearly wasn't conductive to his health.

"Very well, stay here, I'm going to find Dawlish," said Moody and rushed out of the cell, determined to persuade Dawlish with any means available.

Meanwhile Tarquinius tightened his arms around Snape in an attempt to keep him warmer. "Everything will be alright, Severus," he whispered to him, though he himself didn't believe in it.

§§

**__**

Author's notes: Well, there's not much Severus in this chapter, but Lucius is going to be important in one later chapter. (hint, hint) As for the ending – happy or not happy – I'm not that sure about it yet. Anyway, it's all so mixed up, these two endings, that I have no idea which one I should use. Stupid Demon Muse! (kicks her Demon Muse)

On a slightly happier note… When I was writing the part of Lucius and Arenwald, I didn't write the "self-conceited wizard_" right. So the Word gave me two examples on how to right it and one of them was "_self-conceived wizard_". LOL Funny little thing, this computer._


	19. Chapter Nineteen

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Chapter Nineteen

"Oh, dear, dear," sighed healer Marwood while examining the sickly pale prisoner and shook her head. Tarquinius raised a questioning eyebrow at her dramatic sighs, Moody shifted impatiently in his seat and Auror Dawlish appeared to be angry. Snape's face, on the other hand, showed no expression as he sat stiffly on a bed, trying to shut everyone out. He hated such examinations. "He should be transported to St Mungo's."

"Which he wouldn't be," spoke the Auror firmly, "If you haven't noticed, he's a Death Eater," he pointed at Snape's dark mark, shining hideously black against the white skin.

"I have heard of it," murmured the elderly witch and continued scanning Snape's thin body. As many wizards, she had had her own experience with Death Eaters – mostly with their victims. With another deep sigh her eyes rose to his face and lingered on his lowered eyes. Long, long ago had she stopped wondering about what drove several young, brilliant people to Voldemort. She had learnt of Severus Snape as of an exceptionally gifted Potions Master who was highly respected among healers (one of the few who could brew Wolfsbane). Obviously his talents didn't lie on the healing potions' field solely, what a pity. Yet it was not her work to judge him.

With a trembling hand she touched his forehead lightly. Although his fever was undisputedly very high and he appeared ill, her intuition and experience was telling her that this was no ordinary human illness. His immune system had been weakened and thus was vulnerable to the damp coldness of Azkaban cells. What had caused it? She had scanned him for all known curses created to weaken one's immune system, but had found nothing of the sort. That left her greatly confused. It must have been dark magic, she was confident about that. Something dark, but unnoticeable. If only Snape would talk to her! But the man, except occasional glares, showed no will for communication.

"Alastor, come!" she commanded her friend, not wanting to force her unwilling patient into anything.

Dawlish frowned, but remained silent, curious as to what took her so long.

"I can feel something around his heart, possibly dark magic…"

"Dark magic, you say?" wondered Moody, pondering it for a while. Snape took a sharp intake of breath as the former Auror's hand stroke his chest lightly. But all that could Moody feel tingling under his hand was a faint echo of dark magic. Too weak, in his opinion, to cause any illness. Yet the sudden discovery had made him more curious. How come he hadn't felt it before? Not only him – no one had sensed it. Though… Remus Lupin had voiced his suspicions once to Albus… Remus had felt something in Snape's presence, but at that time Moody had waved it off since the whole building had been full of dark magic.

"What is it, Snape?" he asked in vain hope of getting answer from him. Since they had started the examination, Snape just sat there with head help up high and eyes lowered. Arrogant bastard, how could Albus ever trusted him? Even the way he sat radiated arrogance! How could Albus ever stand this muted arrogance?

"What is it?" he repeated the question, much louder this time. Snape didn't respond.

Shaking his head, Dawlish approached the prisoner and hit him hard. "Answer, Snape!"

Before Dawlish could hit him again, he found his hand in the iron grip of Tarquinius's hand. "Once more, Dawlish, and you'll regret it!" he hissed venomously, grinding the Auror's bones together. "And you Severus, do co-operate. What kind of curse it was?"

"Not a curse," answered Snape softly, glaring at the Auror, "it was a binding spell. It's severed now."

"Oh, dear," sighed the healer again. "Severed?"

Snape nodded weakly, wishing the examination would be over soon. He had always hated being analysed and studied in such a way. He rubbed his cheek, which was beginning to pound dully from Dawlish's blow and cast down his eyes. "The Dark Lord has severed it the day when I was caught."

"When did he bind you?" asked the Auror. Snape turned to him, reading the emotions in his face, knowing very well what he wanted to know. "Was it before or after you murdered my son?"

"After."

There was no need for lies; he would no doubt be questioned by Veritaserum later.

However, his cool answer knocked the breath out of Moody. "After? Are you telling me that you killed him before…"

Snape nodded wordlessly, watching with a smirk in his face the shift of emotions on their shocked faces. "Yes, I killed him _before_ the binding spell was put on me," he confirmed, adding stress to the fateful word.

§§

Arenwald sat in the bar of Hog's Head gazing out of a window. The street outside looked ghastly in the misty darkness as the moon hang low in the sky like a yellow skull. From time to time a cloud stretched a long arm across it and hid it. A few moments ticked by and the skull reappeared in the sky. In his imagination it looked nearly like the dark mark burnt into the skin of Voldemort's followers… into the Professor's pale skin… He winced and quickly drank his glass empty, enjoying the burning of firewhiskey in his throat. It had wiped away the sweet taste of Malfoy's blood (what a pity he couldn't drain the cretin whole!) bringing a new, sharper one.

Then an expression of disgust and contempt crossed his handsome face. Why was he thinking about some pitiful mortals? His own nature revolted against being drowned in their lives. He had always tided with them only if it was beneficial for him. Nowadays, when the Ministry wasn't dealing kindly with vampires, Voldemort had become a powerful ally. Centuries ago had he ceased to differentiate between good and evil. Eventually, humans usually used the same means for both good and evil ends, so where was the difference? Very few of them were fascinating to him and those few were often people on the side which, for now, was considered as evil. Yes, Lord Voldemort himself was an enchanting creature, cruel, but clever and inspiring. So was the Professor – Severus – one of the few who could be destined for immortality, a survivor.

His slim hands twitched nervously together. Snape again, when would he finally leave his mind? The man was practically dead; it would be the best to think of him as of a dead.

A hand touched his shoulder lightly, snatching him awake from his reverie. "Herrgott!" he swore quietly before turning to the intruder who had taken a seat opposite of him. He could feel his brilliant blue eyes searching in his soul which was well locked from everyone. "Will you care to tell me why are you disturbing me?"

"I think I know who you are," spoke Albus Dumbledore softly, smiling. He hadn't asked for the vampire's name, these dark creatures preferred to stay anonymous. "You were seen here following Severus Snape out of the bar shortly before his disappearance."

Arenwald's eyes searched out the bartender who only shrugged and passed from his sight.

"Yes, I saw him." He could remember that evening very well. "Why do you ask?"

"I have heard of an alliance between some vampires and Voldemort, you must be one of them. I believe you have seen him more than once…"

The unfinished sentence hang in the air like a question. Arenwald nodded slowly. "Professor Dumbledore, don't expect me to help you and turn my back to the Dark Lord. I have no interest whatsoever in any short mortal life."

"Any information on Severus would be helpful, that's all I need. I'm not allowed to see him and only few people can get to him, however, on limited time only."

A gentle smile ghosted over Arenwald's porcelain white skin. "I've nearly forgotten how emotionally attached you humans are, so caring and weak because of that. There's not much I'm allowed to tell you, Professor Dumbledore."

"I'll be grateful for anything," whispered the headmaster while covering Arenwald's cold hand with his in mute pleads.

"You won't be able to save him anyway, not from your laws, so what's the point? He's done things that can't be excused, oh yes, horrible things. Our lord knows powerful methods of persuasions. I suppose that you've already discovered the binding spell and that fact that it was broken in a very vengeful, dangerous way. However, since I know how stubborn and uncooperative your Potions Master is, I doubt he told you about one more thing. The Dark Lord has saved his life. Yes," laughed Arenwald sadly when seeing Dumbledore's horrified face, "there was an unpleasant incident with Bellatrix's poisonous roses. The Professor nearly died then, but was saved by the Dark Lord. I thought you should know about the life debt, I have no doubt you'll want to cure him from the after effects of the severed bond and this could cause complications since it had strengthened the link. I believe that there's still something left of the link, you'll need to be careful."

He gazed out of the window again, watching the skull-like moon, considering the discussion closed. If they so much wanted to cure Snape… but what for? The man was dead. He would get the Kiss anyway or at least the life sentence.

And yet the headmaster remained seated in his chair, studying the vampire's face intently.

"You have sympathy for him."

Arenwald's face turned back to the headmaster. "I do, but what is one short human life to me? There are more important things for me, things needed for my survival. You can't understand it, headmaster."

Unwilling to continue their, in his opinion, pointless dialogue (What was the headmaster expecting him to do?), Arenwald rushed out of the bar to the Dark Forest. As he walked, his eyes grew strangely bright in the moonlight and he gnawed nervously at his under-lip.

His breath quickened. A mad craving came over him. None was left of the sweet taste of blood in his mouth and he was hungry for more. Someone would die that night and hopefully it would make him forget all stupid human troubles. In another one hundred years he would not remember that there ever existed a person named Severus Snape…

§§

That person still existed, though. When the examinations had been finished and Moody had run off along with Tarquinius, Severus sat alone in a bed, his chin resting on his knees and his arms embracing them tightly. He felt drained, exhausted like never before and so cold; shivering in fever which showed itself to be stronger than the cocktail of potions he was on. His eyelids were heavy, threatening to fall and close his eyes, but Severus didn't want to sleep. He had some thinking to do and this was the most perfect time for it. He was thinking about the examination and how he told Moody and Dawlish about the murder of the young healer. He should have been more considerate, just a little bit kinder… Moody appeared to be truly horrified while Dawlish looked both pleased and angry.

If Dumbledore ever had the intention of saving him, he must have seen a good chance in the binding spell. It could have worked well in a trial – him killing the healer under the influence of the spell. Dawlish must have been pleased; he had ruined his chance of escape from the life sentence or the Kiss. Well, ruined… He would have confessed it under Veritaserum, so it was better to come out with it now than later.

Severus pondered his chances for a while longer, trying not to think about the Kiss. What was it like - the Kiss? Did it hurt? Did it matter whether it hurt or not? Here, safe from the Dementors, he could finally think clearly though his head was spinning. How would he talk himself out of the Kiss? Well, he had been a spy; he had helped the light side a lot – that would help. And he'll need a damn good lawyer, certainly Lucius knows a good one.

He reached deep inside himself, grasping the remains of the bound, which were getting weaker and weaker. Yet they were still there and oddly comforting. He reached to the Dark Lord in an attempt to feel his presence for a moment. _'Haven't you punished me enough, my lord? What more do you want from me? Do you want me dead? Will you not help me?'_

No answer.

"Can I have a piece of parchment?" he asked into the dark corner where Dawlish was sitting. "I've got a right to find myself a lawyer."

"I doubt you can find anyone capable of saving your skin, slippery Slytherin," laughed the Auror, but nevertheless brought him a parchment.

"Thank you," whispered Severus. Pushing away the thoughts about how his head was spinning, he forced himself to concentrate on writing.

Far away, in the warm comfort of the Malfoy Manor, Lord Voldemort smiled to himself. _'No, Severus, you haven't received all the punishment you deserve yet.'_

§§

****

Author's notes: _You can't imagine how long I worked on this chapter, it just didn't want to be formed into what I had in my thoughts! And it still doesn't look like I'd like it to look like; I'm not totally satisfied with it. I apologise for the long not up-dating. Evil, evil story! Really, for many days I was struggling with certain things in this fic, especially with Arenwald who is there to show that although he does care for Severus, he's not much willing to help him. I hope you'll like the chapter. I'm going to a vacation before Easter so I'm not sure when I'll update again, but I'll try to up-date Amaurotum too before going away._

Thank you very much for all your reviews, you deserve a huuuuuuge hug. :-D


	20. Chapter Twenty

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Chapter Twenty

It was nearly midnight when Auror Dawlish sat in a chair in dark corner watching the prisoner sleeping in his sickbed. He could tell that Snape's sleep wasn't peaceful, he must have been troubled by nightmares and his conscience. There was a frown settled in his face and he appeared to be changing his position in sleep way too often for an untroubled night. Dawlish's eyes fell upon a slender hand lying opened next to Snape's face. It seemed to thin and delicate for a murderer, too unreal. Actually, as he was studying him, the whole Snape appeared to be undoubtedly very thin. Was it because of Azkaban or had he always been like that? When he had accompanied Cornelius Fudge to Hogwarts after an illegal student organisation had been discovered there, he hadn't met Snape. There had been only Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall present in the headmaster's office, no other teacher. Well, Snape could have been plotting something with Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…

"I'm sorry."

Dawlish startled and blinked, seeing Snape looking at him. His eyes were glittering strangely in the semi-darkness as if his fever got high again.

"What did you say?" asked Dawlish in an astonished whisper.

"I know… I know it's not enough, but I'm sorry… for your son's death," said Snape quietly, apologising. That was one thing he rarely used to do.

"You're right, it isn't enough," replied the Auror coldly while Snape closed his eyes with a sigh. "He won't be resurrected by some pitiful 'sorry'. Unlike filth like you, my son was a good man whose only crime was that his blood wasn't 'pure'."

"Wouldn't you do the same?" whispered Snape, his dark eyes piercing to the bottom of Auror's soul, "For me it was to have my father killed or… to kill your son. Tell me that you would choose your son's death and save the man you don't know, whom you've never seen before, a complete stranger. Tell me, I want to hear it. Tell me how noble you are, Gryffindor."

Dawlish took a deep breath. "Right, Snape."

He was deceivingly calm after hearing Snape's words. "I was willing to call a healer to you. I agreed to have you in the hospital wing away from the Dementors in order to have you regain your strength needed for healing, but you…" he stopped to take another deep breath, his voice turning icy, "you're an ungrateful bastard. You won't try my patience again, Snape. You're going back to your cell. NOW!"

A lift of an eyebrow was Snape's only reaction to Auror's outburst. Dawlish strode quickly towards his bed and grabbed Snape's jaw upon which he flinched.

He flinched… at his touch.

Dawlish's brows furrowed as he watched Snape's eyes widen in… fear maybe? Shock? In his mind a memory of the Snapes' files resurfaced… He had studied every single sheet in them - from Tarquinius Snape's stay in Azkaban through Snape's act as a spy to his capture and therefore he could connect his reaction to them quickly. He felt a shudder rip through the Death Eater's body as he moved closer into his intimate zone, caressed his cheek and grabbed his hair. Snape trembled even more, obviously hating the unwelcomed touches. A sweet feeling of victorious power filled Dawlish's heart until Snape's words didn't shatter it.

"Tell me, Mr Dawlish, are you aware of what you're doing?" came Snape's question quietly in his low, sneering voice, "You have just discovered how much I detest being touched in this way and you are using this knowledge against me. Your behaviour strongly resembles that of the Dark Lord."

Dawlish wrenched his hand away as if he had been burnt. The seductive feeling of power had taken over him for a while but he recovered, angry both with himself and Snape. He grabbed the Death Eater's arm in a tight grip making him wince and dragged him back to his cold cell. Apart from a failed attempt to free his arm, Snape didn't protest much. His mocking silence was enraging the Auror whose grip on Severus's thin arm intensified and pace quickened. When they reached the cell, Dawlish threw the prisoner unceremoniously in and delivered a malicious kick into his ribcage. Snape slipped down to the ground, coughing quietly, while the Auror smiled.

"You'll learn not to disobey me quickly, I believe," he said and with that left the Death Eater on his own. Before he went away, he summoned a Dementor to keep Snape a company.

§§

Lucius's long platinum hair was brushing the smooth mahogany surface of the desk he was sitting at, his face hidden in his hands. If there had been someone standing in front of him, he could have seen his fine fingers trembling. But from where he stood, the Malfoy Lord knew that Voldemort couldn't see his expression, though he had no doubt of him being aware of his distress. The Dark Lord knew everything. Everything. Besides, it was his Lord who had put him into this situation, the Dark Lord who was asking horrific things from him.

A picture of a few hours ago attacked his mind again, making him shudder. _Draco, his only child, his beloved (though he had to admit he was often a strict father) son, on his knees before the Dark Lord whose spidery fingers ruffled Draco's hair gently and whose piercing crimson eyes commanded Lucius to obey or …_ He closed his eyes tight, shivering violently while a cold hand gripped his heart and another image came to him. This time it was Severus. Severus who had betrayed him and the Dark Lord, alone in some cold cell of Azkaban, his soul slowly being eaten away by Dementors. His sharp-tongued cousin, vicious and clever… a traitor. Severus, Severus, Severus.

The Malfoy Lord flinched when a hand descended upon his shoulder. Though thin and bony, the hand weighed unpleasantly much, causing him to tremble more and more. Lucius found himself unable to compose himself and hide his distress. Time seemed to him to be crawling with feet of lead. After a strained moment of silence, the Dark Lord's hand brushed Lucius's hair behind his ear. The movement of hit was painfully slow, the soft pads of Voldemort's chilly fingers sending unpleasant shivers down Malfoy's spine. The Dark Lord bent to his revealed ear and said, very quietly, "There's no need to be so upset, Lucius. I am awfully sorry for you, but I can't help myself. I am forced to involve you in this, for you highly difficult, matter."

A look of pity came into Voldemort's eyes as he turned Lucius to face him and continued, "Think of the position I am in. Think of your position and your questionable loyalties. Prove to me where your loyalties lie."

Lucius's face paled ghastly. "My Lord," he whispered, "I am and always will be your faithful servant."

"My ssssslippery friend," hissed Voldemort, his skeletal fingers caressing Malfoy's cheeks lightly, "I am so sorry. You promised to do anything, do you remember? Anything," he repeated, stressing the word. "You promised to kill him, to torture him, to do anything to him while sparing your life."

Laughing, Voldemort's finger touched Lucius's neck where Arenwald's dagger had left a mark, momentarily enjoying the feeling of power when Malfoy was cringing from him. It wasn't a sight he had seen often before. However, seeing one of his most trusted favourites like this - weak and whining - sent a rush of poisonous rage through his veins. His eyes flashed as he grabbed Lucius's silky hair.

"What have I told you before?" he asked and then shouted, "What have I told you?"

"Have mercy upon me, my Lord!" cried out Lucius, pleading, "Leave me out of it, I beg you."

Voldemort's gaunt face loomed over his as he yelled, "Mercy?"

"Mercy."

He clapped one of those chilly hands over Lucius's mouth.

"No more of that in my presence or I'll feed you to Arenwald. You disgust me."

The hand moved to play with Malfoy's hair, lifting up the shiny strands and letting them drop.

"I beg you, master…"

Voldemort's mouth curled cruelly in rage. He struck Lucius hard across his face and the Death Eater fell to his knees, horror-stricken. Never before had he been the one cursed or hit by his master. Threats yes, even those more threatening (with that vampire scum), but… The Dark Lord had struck him as if he were a disobedient child and not Lucius Malfoy, the loyal Death Eater. In his mind he cursed his wayward cousin for staining his impeccable image and throwing him into such a critical situation. He groaned and that made Voldemort laugh.

"Stop deluding yourself, my friend, don't pity yourself so much or you'll be welcomed to experience my real wrath."

A groan broke from Lucius's trembling lips again which was followed by angry yanking at his hair. The Dark Lord pulled him to his feet and spat, "Stop whining! We both know that this is not the time to be merciful and we both know that you will do what I ask of you, so cease this disgusting snivelling. Don't delay, you have no other option. Go and get Severus."

"As you wish, my Lord," whispered Lucius, smoothing his hair.

"You might want to take some Death Eaters to help you. Take as many as you need."

The Malfoy Lord bowed gracefully though his hands were still shaking badly. "Thank you, master, you're generous."

As he exited the room and descended the stairs, his eyes fell on the face half-hidden in shadows. The sneer marring the white mask-like face reminded him of Severus, but Severus had never looked at him with as much hatred as Arenwald. Lucius halted his steps in front of the vampire and his gaze travelled up his figure with disdain. However, Arenwald managed to put as much contempt into his eyes as Malfoy.

"Going to dress up for a kill? Don't forget to brush your hair."

"Shut up, that's no business of yours, vampire."

"I might be of help, Malfoy. Me and my brothers are immune to Dementors."

After a moment Lucius nodded and gestured for Arenwald to follow him.

"I suppose that you're looking forward to a magnificent feast which Azkaban will provide. But do not forget to leave Severus to me as our master wishes."

"Very well, Malfoy."

Lucius took a deep breath to regain his composure. He knew that what he was going to do was dreadful and it filled his eyes with infinite pity. But sacrifices and difficult choices had to be done one day and he realised how right the Dark Lord had been. What he required of him was painful, but duty was hardly ever desirable. Of the choices given, this was the one he had to do though deep inside his soul he was weeping.

§§

"How are you feeling, Remus?" asked Albus Dumbledore, looking at the werewolf without the famous twinkle in his eyes. Lupin had left the St Mungo's hospital for Madame Pomfrey's care and although he was now feeling better, he felt that Severus's damned potion was still working on his body.

"I'm fine, thank you, headmaster. With Madame Pomfrey we were searching for any notes on that potion in Severus's quarters, but there's nothing."

For a moment Dumbledore looked pensive, then nodded thoughtfully, "It doesn't surprise me. The Aurors haven't found anything illegal in either the Snape Manor or here in Severus's rooms. I believe he must have some other hiding place for them or he might have all the illegal ingredients in Riddle's place. The country house we've found you and Severus in is being searched now too."

"You haven't seen him, have you?"

"No," sighed Dumbledore as his eyes saddened, "No one can visit him but Aurors and family."

"Fudge must be afraid of you then."

"Yes and the elections are coming close. I fear that he'll use Severus in his campaign."

They both fell silent, contemplating. Remus was beginning to be perfectly horrified. Seeing Dumbledore like this, trying to help, trying to do something when they could not think of any possible plan (except for waiting for the trial) was dreadful. It filled him with a sense of insecurity and deep worry.

"Remus, I'll do everything in my power to save his life," Dumbledore assured him, but still there was no twinkle in his eyes, only sadness and worry. For the first time in his life Remus doubted Dumbledore's hopeful words. If the headmaster had noticed his doubts, he couldn't say anything more for suddenly the doors to Dumbledore's office flew open and in rushed a panting former Auror - Alastor Moody.

"Your pet Death Eater has maddened Dawlish again," was the only thing he said.

§§

**__**

Author's notes: Well, well, well… this took me a while, but I can tell you that my vacation was just perfect, I had a wonderful time! There was still plenty of snow and I was having lots of fun with my boyfriend. But back to the story… Severus was being difficult this time; I had to struggle with him for nearly two weeks. And then suddenly, it all came to me in a rush on Monday - I wrote it down, edited and now here you are, the next chapter. I hope you'll like it. **Thank you VERY much for reviewing**.

Unfortunately, doesn't allow individual review responses anymore, but I may reply to you via e-mails. I'm off to work on the next chapter (feeling inspired this week…) and I need to replace the previous chapters (remove the review responses).


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

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Chapter Twenty-One

The gruesome figure of a Dementor was looming over a quivering skinny man curled in a corner. Every single breath by the dark creature made the cell colder and sent shivers through the prisoner's body. Snape covered his face with his shaking hands as if that could protect him from the memories appearing before his eyes. Since there weren't many happy memories that would feed the Dementor, Snape belonged to one of those people who were most vulnerable to these grim creatures. "Please," he managed to plead; though his voice was weak and shaking. It sounded scared and scared he Snape was, petrified his blood running cold, whole his thin frame trembling.

The Dementor took a deep breath, sucking in the air and hope, memories worth remembering and cherishing, and Severus's hands flew to his hair as he screamed.

At first Dawlish laughed, but the fear and pain in Snape's eyes nearly turned his blood to ice. When the Dementor's skeletal fingers tilted Snape's face up, he saw tears running down his deathly pale cheeks. His face was drained of all colour and his eyes widened in fear. But the worst was the look in those eyes - so much misery the Auror had rarely seen before and many things had he already experienced. Snape reminded him of the screaming figure from his favourite Muggle painting by Munch. In panic he tore the barred door open and rushed into the cell, forcing the Dementor back, fending him off the prisoner. A silvery mule floated out of his wand, Dawlish's Patronus, and galloped to the dark creature that fled into the darkness of Azkaban's endless corridors.

When he made sure that the Dementor had indeed left, Dawlish knelt to the Death Eater, examining him. Snape sat huddled in the corner, his eyes closed, face unearthly pale, his breathing coming in gasps. He appeared barely conscious, but then the Auror noticed him murmuring something softly, almost inaudibly. "Help me, master… Save me… I'll obey… Help me…" he was saying over and over again, pleading so quietly and never stopping, on and on he went with his litany, "Help me, master… Save me… I'll obey…"

"Snape, stop it," whispered Dawlish, running a shaking hand over his short wiry hair, "Stop, please."

"Help me… Save me, master… I'll obey… Help me…"

"Snape…"

"Help me…"

Searching through his pockets, Dawlish found a half-melted piece of chocolate, which he pushed into Snape's mouth. Unable to speak with his mouth full, Severus gulped and in an instant he felt warmth spreading through his cold body. Still shaken, he covered his face with his hands, horrified by what had happened.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Dawlish didn't have time to wonder what he was sorry for when his wand started to vibrate. Alarms! Had someone broken into Azkaban again? He jumped to his feet, but before he could react to the situation, a tall man (or was that a vampire?) materialised before him and threw him against the wall.

§§

Arenwald smirked as the unconscious Auror sank to the ground, limp like a rag doll, then turned his attention to the Potions Master. He could tell that the man was shaken by something, what had happened there? He was staring wide-eyed at him, the onyx eyes glittering like gemstones, but was it fear or hope that Arenwald saw in them? No, he hadn't got time contemplating it, thanks to his vampiric skills he was the first to reach Snape, but the Death Eaters would follow soon. He went down on his knees and pulled Snape into an embrace, cradling his head to rest in the crook of his neck. He heard him ask quietly, "Has my master sent you?" and Arenwald nodded, knowing how much the wizard longed for hope.

Gently he brushed away his matted hair to reveal the pale neck and the tempting vein there. He took a deep breath, savouring the sweet fragrance of Snape's skin and blood hidden under it, so tempting, so overwhelming! Malfoy would kill him, his cousin, he had no doubt about it and he knew that it could break Snape's heart, dying by the hand of a man who had always been close to him. The professor's soft breathing was tickling his skin pleasantly while he pondered his options. Should he kill him in an act of mercy? Should he leave Voldemort play his games to the very end and have Malfoy suffer, plagued by the memory of killing his own cousin? _His brother_, as he had heard him say once. Or should he… He dared not think about the third option, but as Snape dropped his hand, the thin fabric of his grey tunic slipped from his shoulder, revealing more of his white skin. The Potions Master moved his hand, meaning to put the tunic right into its place, but Arenwald took hold of the bony wrist, stopping him. He lowered his mouth to Snape's neck, breathing him in his scent again, feeling it overpowering him. Reason left him as he grabbed the professor's hair, tilted his head back and flashed his fangs, ready to sink them into Snape's flesh.

§§

Alastor Moody, Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin had apparated to the island and ran to the tall castle-like building of Azkaban. Albus was determined to have a word with Dawlish and do whatever was in his power to see Severus despite the Auror's strict rules. Great was their surprise when they found Azkaban under attack, Aurors fighting the Death Eaters and vampires. "Alastor, inform the Order!" shouted Dumbledore and with Lupin the rushed to fight their way to Snape's cell, wands at the ready.

§§

"Incendio!" cried Lucius, throwing Arenwald off Severus. The vampire's shriek filled the cell, crawling under his skin, chilling to the marrow of his bones. Much to his relief Severus appeared to be unhurt and unbitten, looking at him with dazed eyes as if he had been spellbound. He contemplated finishing the vampire's life right there (and he would take great delight in doing so, painfully slowly with fire), but there was Severus and the Dark Lord's orders… He lifted his wand and instead studied the state Severus was in.

"Goyle, take him and do be careful," he drawled, putting on his usual mask of coldness and boredom. He tried not to think of the man before him as of his cousin. No, this man was a traitor and as such he deserved to die a traitor's death. And yet the image of young Severus materialised before his eyes - Severus hurting, hidden under his bed and clutching at a pillow, dark eyes shining wetly. The same dark eyes were now searching his, but Lucius avoided them, pretending to be looking for the portkey, which had been ready in his pocket.

§§

Although his body was hurting from wounds caused by fire, Arenwald was shivering from cold. There was nothing but pain his mind could concentrate on, whole his world consisted of pain and everything else was lost in the fog surrounding his consciousness. He moaned, attempting to move his hand, but any movement was beyond his abilities. He knew that there was someone talking to him - a bearded white figure hidden in the fog. Was he dying? "Mein Gott," he whispered, but the God-like figure shook his head, asking him something.

And there was another one… not a human, an ancient old enemy of the wolf people… "_Vlkodlak_," came the word to him, the word he had learned long ago in his hometown, and he shivered again. The white bearded man bent closer to him, his blue eyes penetrating the fog, followed by words, "Can you hear me?"

Another pained moan came from the vampire and the white figure frowned. "You'll be alright, we shall take care of you. Tell us, where is Severus?"

"Snape Manor," Arenwald breathed out before slipping back to unconsciousness.

§§

They apparated as close to the Snape Manor as they could, Lucius searching the coast for any Aurors, fortunately none were there. Severus was standing next to him, still like a statue, unmoving, waves of sea washing coldly over his bare feet. Long and untidy, his hair played in the breeze. There was a scent of autumn coming on the wind, foreshadowing rainy days and falling leaves. It enveloped the two men gently; Lucius shivered in cold, feeling it seeping up into his heart and hardening it, while Severus allowed himself a small smile, breathing in the familiar air. The smile made Lucius cringe at the knowledge that he would be the one to wipe it away, with his bare hands. _'Bare hands,'_ as the Dark Lord had requested of him. For a while he didn't move too, he was just studying Severus in the way he had used to do so many a years ago. His cousin… no, the traitor, appeared calm or surprised, he couldn't tell. Suddenly he turned to face him, one elegant eyebrow raised as he asked, "Where's the master? I feel that he's near."

"He shall arrive later," answered Lucius softly and reached out a hand to touch Severus's cheek. His cousin didn't back away from the touch, he only frowned lightly. There was no fear in his expression or suspicion; did he truly trust him that much? Only the frown… and uncertainty with it with a bit of calculation… And then a gasp as Lucius's hand tightened at his neck and threw him down into water.

He was so light, so thin a man that he pushed him down without difficulty, it was just a moment until Lucius had his face underwater, strangling him. If only he could kill him quickly, but the Dark Lord wanted him not to be quick and merciful, he wanted Severus (and obviously him too) to suffer. Therefore Lucius grabbed his struggling cousin and dragged him out of water for a few more moments.

Severus was coughing violently, angry red mark marring the whiteness of his neck. When he looked up at Lucius, he appeared to be at loss for words, but his dark eyes spoke clearly, 'Why you?'

"What does it feel like?" a cold mocking voice startled them, Severus flinched. "What does it feel like," repeated the Dark Lord, "to be dying by the hand of your beloved cousin?"

He crouched down to Snape, pulling him to himself by his wet hair. "Does it hurt, Severus?" he hissed, his thin lips curling. It amused him greatly to see Snape torn between an urge to settle into his arms due to the remnants of the binding spell and to defy him. The look in his face was pleasing him too - stunned by Lucius's doings, saddened and disappointed - his lips bluish and pale, marks red on his neck, Lucius's fingers… Voldemort laughed when seeing Malfoy's delicate, aristocratic fingers tremble.

"You could have been spared of this, dear child," spoke Voldemort again, his voice softer, the skeletal fingers caressing Snape's cheek, "Why did you have to go to Dumbledore? Was it worth it? Was it worth to have a conscience and had your past haunting you? With me, with us, you were free of such stupid things, allowed to do anything you liked. You had power. Power over life and death. You loved it. You shared our noble ideals; you still share some of them. And now…" he cupped Snape's face in his hands, "you die not a powerful man, but a man plagued by his conscience and past. A man not respected by any side. Was it worth it?"

A moment of silence was followed by Severus's silent answer, "Yes."

Lucius paled and averted his gaze, closing his eyes, Voldemort hit Snape, hit him hard so he fell to the ground. The Malfoy Lord bit his lip when he heard the Dark Lord kick Severus, break a rib or two, and Severus cry out.

"Lucius!" hissed his master sharply, "Finnish him, slowly!"

He was laying on his side, his… the traitor, his breath coming in rasps, not looking at him. For once Lucius was grateful for that, knowing what Voldemort wanted. A small tear rolled down from Severus's closed eyes; Lucius swallowed hard and kicked his cousin… the wretched traitor. He heard Voldemort laughed and Severus moan in pain, but he concentrated on shutting the both of them out. There was only the traitor, the captive, the enemy, and the member of Dumbledore's Order… He threw him back into water, drowning him and the traitor fought him, but Lucius knew he was stronger, those fluttering hands, so useless… weak… wrists too slender… and weakened by Azkaban…

One hand had clutched at his robes, but its grip was gradually growing weaker. Water splashed and bubbled around them, the hand slipped from his robes and then… Severus's struggles ceased…

Before Lucius could check his pulse, there was a loud crack as Dumbledore and Lupin apparated, both looking furious.

He pulled out his wand and rushed to help Voldemort, but then there was another crack and Moody appeared, closely followed by more and more wizards of the light side. Clearly they were outnumbered. He swore and disapparated, with his master doing the same.

§§

After they had rescued Snape from water, Moody took to reviving him. "Breathe!" he shouted, his wand pointed at Snape's still chest. "Breathe, you little snake! Don't be stupid, breathe, don't let him win!"

Remus shuddered at seeing the former Auror so furious, wondering whether his training included any healing classes and whether a healer wouldn't be more helpful there. But Dumbledore trusted Moody's skills - he was sitting at Severus's body, holding his hand and murmuring something. He must have been helping Moody… And then a shiver run through Severus, he gasped and began coughing up water weakly, but he was alive, he was breathing and Moody was laughing, "That's it, little snake, fight! We have you!"

Dumbledore laughed too, his eyes twinkling with delight and Remus couldn't help not to smile. Finally Severus was out of danger and in their care.

§§

**__**

Author's note: Thank you very much for reviews. I'm sorry for such a late update; I was busy finishing school, studying like a madman, oh my! But it's over and I'm sooooo happy! From now on I'll be putting review responses into my Live Journal -- follow the link in my bio (homepage), it will take you directly to the reviews (those entries won't be friends-only).


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo

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Chapter Twenty-Two

Remus Lupin thought that if sorrow had had a shape, it would have formed the picture before him. Tarquinius was sitting at his son's bed, his face bearing the expression of hopelessness and grief. Severus was asleep after all those potions that Madame Pomfrey had given him. She had been frowning a lot and worry had been evident in her face as she tended to Severus. The remnants of the binding spell were still working on Snape's body, weakening his immune system, and Lupin knew that the Potions Master would never be truly free while Voldemort lived. It was almost ironic that until the dark wizard's death he would have to stay at Grimmauld Place, locked in the dark ancient house like Sirius had been, hiding from Voldemort's wrath. Undoubtedly, he would be feeling useless, just like Sirius had felt. Would it make him bitterer?

A sigh from Tarquinius made him concentrate on the father and son again. The elder Snape was stroking Severus's hair tenderly, his big fingers caressing him as if they were afraid of hurting him, breaking him. They moved slowly to the calm face, brushing lightly his forehead, the closed eyes, high cheekbones, his cheeks, but despite being asleep, Severus turned away from the feathery touches. Remus could see how a slight frown settled in his face and how Tarquinius closed his grey eyes.

"I used to hate him," he whispered so quietly that the werewolf could barely hear him, "My dear Sophie was a fragile and sickly woman, and Severus's birth damaged her health further. I blamed him for her death."

"It's never too late to ask forgiveness, Mr Snape," said Lupin, feeling melancholy creeping slowly upon him. In answer Tarquinius laughed - a harsh, pained sound devoid of any hope or joy.

"I've thought you know my son better than that, Mr Lupin. Why should he forgive me? No one has ever taught him that. The only ones ever showing some kindness to the boy have been Lucius and the Dark Lord. Severus doesn't forgive, he doesn't know how. Has he ever forgiven _you_, Mr Lupin?"

"He surely loves you," objected the werewolf, ignoring the question, "He wanted to protect you, he took care of you, paid a healer to help you…"

"Ah, I see," smiled Tarquinius, "You don't know him," he murmured, taking his son's hand into his, "Severus never forgets. He's keeping everything deep inside himself, remembers, and holds grudges. And he's got this strong sense of responsibility and duty, that's why he's helping me. He thinks it's his duty to take care of me now when he's the stronger one."

"You may be mistaken…"

The older wizard shook his head, cradling Severus's hand in his, studying it closely. "I like his hands, you know, hands of a Potions Master. Hands that have created wonderful things unlike mine…"

"Have you ever considered to stop feeling sorry for yourself and to actually start working on yourself and on regaining Severus's trust, Tarquin?"

Both Lupin and the elder Snape flinched at Dumbledore's words. None of them had noticed him standing in the doorway; he must have arrived as quietly as a ghost. Behind him Alastor Moody stood, eyeing Tarquinius with badly hidden disgust. After a strained moment of silence when Remus watched the Auror and the former Death Eater glare at each other and felt their strong enmity, Dumbledore asked softly, "How is Severus? I need to talk to him."

"He's going to be fine, headmaster," replied Lupin as Tarquinius was occupied by Mad-Eye Moody, "He needs rest, of course, but he's healing well, considering the circumstances."

The headmaster nodded. "Very well, we should let him rest then. Come, Alastor, we have some pressing matters to attend to."

"Death Eaters in Grimmauld Place, for instance," murmured Moody, casting one last hateful glance at Tarquinius before Dumbledore led him downstairs. The Snape senior heaved a deep breath and with half-closed eyes he averted his head to look at his son, "My dear Severus, I assure you that I'm not the only one in this house in need of help."

Was it Remus's imagination or did indeed a tiny smile curl Snape's lips? It couldn't be, could it? After all those potions… He hesitated for some moments, then decided to leave the two Snapes on their own and followed Dumbledore and Moody downstairs.

§§

In a hidden part of the Malfoy Mansion Lucius lay in a huge four-poster bed staring into darkness with wide open eyes. He watched it as though it were a thing that could fascinate and make afraid. His fingers moved towards it as if trying to grasp it, then fell back onto the satin pillows. He had nearly killed him… How ghastly the mere memory of that scene was! Each hideous detail came back to him with added horror, he saw it all again. It had hurt too, doing it. But had he had any other choice? Either Severus had had to die or he. And as much as he cared for his cousin, it wasn't enough, he certainly didn't want to die for him.

"I'm sorry, Severus," he whispered. As he always to be burdened by this… this failed attempt at his cousin's life? It had failed, so why was he thinking about him? All in all, it had come out perfectly - Severus wasn't dead (so far) and his master, though certainly furious, didn't doubt his loyalties anymore. No, he had earned so much - not only had he regained the Dark Lord's trust and favour, but he had also strengthened his position in the inner circle. The master had looked at him proudly, seeing what he was capable of. But still… the look in Severus's eyes, his cousin had felt betrayed and it had hurt seeing it in his eyes.

"Why have you sided with that mudblood lover, Severus? With all that scum, half-breeds and mudbloods, why?"

At last he got up from the bed, unlocked the dark mahogany cabinet in the bedroom and brought out a pensieve. If he wanted to stay on the winning side and remain Voldemort's most trusted follower and a friend, he couldn't have Severus haunting his conscience.

§§

"Your goodness borders on insanity and stupidity, Albus! Two Death Eaters, one vampire, what were you thinking?"

Arenwald opened his eyes when the angry words from a heated argument reached his ears. Where was he? He moaned in pain as he remembered what had happened… the day or two days before? His burnt flesh was reminding him of the events far too accurately. Damned humans! He should have known better than sticking his nose into their affairs, it had never paid off well to him. Where was he now? Who had shouted? What had happened to the professor? And there was he again. No, he didn't care. Hopefully everyone was dead, not causing problems anymore.

Someone must have noticed that he was awake, for he walked over to his bed, quietly except for the faint whisper of robes. A wizard then. He managed to clear his eyes and focus his gaze at the tall dark figure (a Death Eater?) and was stunned to see that it was the professor. Looking at him, he realised how hungry he was, his body needed fresh human blood healing. "Go away," he whispered hoarsely, feeling hunger consuming him with its power. If the professor was alive, was that cretin, his cousin, dead?

"You will drink this," said the Potions Master firmly, putting a glass to his lips. Arenwald obliged, glad to have something, anything, to drink and much to his surprise he tasted blood among other ingredients in the potion.

"Where did you…"

The professor arched an eyebrow, interrupting him coldly, "Knocturn Alley. A perfect place to shop for… certain ingredients that have become illegal in the course of recent years. I assume that you would like to know where you are and how have you come to be here?"

He nodded, studying the wizard intently. He appeared to be ill or was he just tired? No, he was much paler that he had remembered him, his skin had that sickly look of ill humans and he seemed to be suppressing coughs now and then. The damp cells of Azkaban must have had an unpleasant influence on his health…

"You wanted to kill me, didn't you? Well, you were stopped by… Lucius," said the professor softly, his eyes acquiring that haunted sad look when he mentioned his cousin, "He nearly burnt you to death. But since the headmaster of Hogwarts in a good man - or stupid and insane by some people's judgement - and has this unexplainable liking for dangerous creatures and half-breeds, he felt he has to save you. This is Grimmauld Place, but as it's under Fidelius charm, you won't be able to tell where it is when you leave here."

He sat down on Arenwald's bed and placed his thin hand on his forehead. The vampire shivered as Snape's scent reached his nostrils and he pushed him roughly away. The wizard stumbled and standing, he cast a furious glare at him. "Don't come so close, you're tempting me," rasped the vampire, watching how Snape took a weary step backwards, "You wouldn't be strong enough to fight me, I might harm you."

"I am afraid that you're too weak to be harmful," the professor waved his worries away, though closer he did not come, "And the potion should calm you."

"Restrain me, you mean."

Snape smirked. "Naturally. We can't have dark creatures threatening the precious golden boy of Dumbledore, can we?"

There was something hidden within the words that Arenwald hadn't noticed before. Although the professor had never been a happy man, this time he could feel more bitterness underlying the words, more disappointment and lack of hope. Why was he so… so sad? He had no other word to describe him than sad.

"You appear to be sad and… I don't know… nervous maybe?"

The professor shot him an angry glare, then snorted. "I'm merely myself, Arenwald."

"No, you are like… waiting for something? Someone? Is you father here? The headmaster?"

"Everyone is here, Arenwald, downstairs, discussing… me."

Again he sat on the bed, though this time he kept a safer distance between himself and the vampire.

"I'm waiting for them to call me downstairs," he said, a shadow of worry crossing his face. "You see, I've betrayed all of them, didn't I? What do you think they'll tell me?"

"But the headmaster seems to be a wise man…"

Snape bit his lip and although he was trying to behave calmly, Arenwald could see that he was nervous and maybe a little afraid too. He forced his body to co-operate as he pulled himself into a sitting position and covered Snape's hand with his. The professor looked at him with surprise, but also anger, frowning.

"How touching," said Snape in his low silken voice, "Do you want to comfort me? Leave that to yourself and please, be so kind and drink whole of that vial of potion."

With that, Snape stood up and swept out of the room, black robes billowing after him. He would have looked as impressive as he had used to, had it not been for the tiny moment when he staggered on his way out.

§§

**__**

Author's notes: I'm back. :-) Thank you very much for your reviews, you can find the review responses in my LJ (follow the link in my bio-page, the homepage link). There are not many chapters left of this story, we're nearing the end quickly (possibly two more chapters, I'll see…). Reviews are always welcomed!

Next week I'm graduating and it'll be a busy week, but I hope that after it's all over, I'll be able to update more frequently. 


	23. Chapter TwentyThree

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Chapter Twenty-Three

Severus leaned heavily against a wall as coughs racked his weakened body. He knew he should be resting in his bed, yet he couldn't force himself into idleness, he had to have something to do or else he would have gone mad. Doing nothing was certainly not what he was used to. With Lupin assisting him (or rather him commanding the werewolf around), he had brewed Arenwald's potion and although it had cost him a lot of energy, it has also given him a sense of usefulness. If only he hadn't been feeling so weak and exhausted! He rested his forehead against the cool wall as a heavy hand descended onto his shoulder. Severus stiffened at the unexpected touch while his father hugged him tightly from behind. '_Like a damned python_,' he thought.

"Why aren't you in bed?" he whispered into his ear.

"I'm waiting for the headmaster to call me downstairs."

"You need to rest more, Severus," said Tarquinius, turning him around so he could see his son's face, "You look ill."

"What a keen observation!" sneered Severus, "Could it be because I am actually ill? I'm deeply touched by your concern, father," he said, the tone of his voice leaving no doubt that he was anything but touched by Tarquinius's words.

"Don't mock me," sighed the elder Snape and caressed his son's gaunt cheek tenderly, "What do those morons want from you? I don't trust anyone of them, least of all the headmoron."

Before Snape could answer, the door to the kitchen opened and Alastor Moody stepped into the hall. He lifted his head to look up the stairs and cried, "Hey Snape! Come down!"

"I'll help you downstairs," whispered the elder Snape, offering his elbow, but he was refused by a cold glare and a shook of a stubborn head. In a wave of hurt that swept over him he watched himself angrily grab Severus's arm and pull him to himself, "Do let me help you!"

"Get your hands off me!" hissed Snape while freeing his arm He rushed down the stairs, the black robes billowing behind him, and disappeared behind the kitchen door, leaving Tarquinius alone with his mixed thoughts.

The kitchen was filled with member of the Order; it appeared as if everyone had come to have an inquiring look at Snape and to decide his fate. Many of them kept avoiding his eyes; some were trying to hide their hatred and dislike, the Weasleys… The Weasleys? Snape sank into a chair in shock, watching Molly's and Arthur's faces, his heart pounding in his chest. Molly and Arthur… and there was Bill sitting close to them, all three looking very much alive! There was contempt in Bill's steady searching gaze that he had turned on the former spy the moment he had walked through the kitchen door.

Snape shuddered and bent his head, passed his hand across his forehead as his eyes half closed and breath quickened. The Dark Lord has the Weasleys killed and yet… He winced at the memory of what had happened, of how much he had suffered of guilt when he had learnt of their supposed deaths. His heart skipped wildly in his chest and he struggled to breathe. _'You gave me some very useful names, dear boy… The Weasleys, my dear, don't you remember them? They are dead; they died in an attack from my Death Eaters. They really had no chance.'_ Someone put a hand on his shoulder and Severus flinched. "Severus, are you all right?" asked Dumbledore, worry evident in his bright eyes as he studied the Potions Master's distressed face. "We can meet later when you feel better if you want to."

Snape shook his head. "I shall be fine," he whispered. At his answer Moody laughed sarcastically. "Fine, you say? You look as if you've just seen a ghost, Snape! But you're right, let's get over with this. I'm of the opinion that we should lock him somewhere safe away from both Voldemort and Aurors."

In amazement Snape's eyebrows shot upwards. Moody didn't want him back in Azkaban? That was certainly something new. Though he didn't sound… pleased or kind, in his own way it was as if he wanted to protect him from both sides. It wasn't a nice thought that there was no side he was safe from and no side where he could actually belong…

"Severus," spoke Dumbledore softly as he stood up and walked over to where Snape sat, "Severus, I… you have to understand… these are difficult times… and difficult times require…"

"For Merlin's sake, Albus!" Moody cut him off roughly, "You're stuttering like some embarrassed schoolboy! Look, Snape. The point is that you're no longer a member of the Order."

"I've gathered that much from your expressions" said Snape silkily, surveying the guiltily looking headmaster who forced himself to return his gaze calmly.

"It's not just a matter of trust, Snape," went on Moody after he had Severus's attention on himself again, "You're still linked to Voldemort and that may prove to be dangerous to our Order, considering your questionable loyalties and Voldemort's power. I understand that this link is strengthened by a life debt you owe him. Although you're no longer a member of the Order and you're such a sneaky little snake, we'll protect you from both the Aurors and Voldemort. And from yourself too, I assume."

Snape said nothing, instead he turned to Dumbledore with a question, "You doesn't trust me, do you? I saw a memory of you… you broke my wand…"

"You betrayed us to him!" Bill Weasley accused him harshly, "What did you expect? A thank you card for burning down our house? You killed an innocent man! You used an Unforgivable o Remus Lupin without any remorse or guilt!"

Snape's dark eyes settled on the werewolf who hung his head. He had enjoyed hurting his childhood enemy; there was no denying that.

"I'm sorry, Severus," whispered Dumbledore, cradling his pale hands in his, "Can you ever forgive me that I wavered in my trust? Tell me you haven't done those crimes by your own will."

"Do you see what you're doing?" laughed Bill Weasley, though there was no joy in his laughter, "You're a criminal and yet the headmaster is willing to protect you, despite all he believes in, despite all he holds noble, he'll protect you, a criminal, a murderer!"

The dark eyes took in the many faces again before they settled again on Dumbledore, ignoring what Bill had said. "I have nothing to forgive you, headmaster. You had your reasons for doubting me. I thought you all had thought me a traitor, the Dark Lord led me believe that," he smiled sadly, "I killed the healer to save my father's life. The Dark Lord had found out the place of Weasleys' home from my mind after I had been poisoned and ill. It was then when he saved my life; he used light magic to do it, healing magic. However, what happened afterwards happened of my free will…"

An uncomfortable silence settled on the kitchen, only Lupin looked up and objected, "No, Severus, I could feel some dark force surrounding you, binding you back then, in that dungeon…"

But Snape waved him away with a tired gesture. He was tired of having to think back, of having to talk about it to these people who suddenly didn't even matter to him. What did he have in common with them? Had they ever trusted him? No, it was not the question of trust; he simply didn't belong to them as he didn't belong to Death Easters either. These people were not capable of things he was capable of, dark things, things that can hardly be ever forgiven. They had no dark side to their personalities and what their assumed was their "dark side" was laughable for him.

Yet he went on explaining, "The binding spell can't force me to do anything, it acts on my emotions. What you felt was nothing more than the pull of dark magic. Dark Arts are tempting, seductive. You know it, though you don't know how it really feels like using it. I'm far too dependent on it, I know."

Slowly he raised from his chair and walked over to a fireplace, crossing his arms across his chest and turning his back on the members of the Order. "I don't want your protection. Don't say anything, headmaster, it's not because I'm angry with you. I have no reason to be angry, I know now that you cared for my well being even if you had your doubts. I'm grateful that you have saved me from Azkaban, but I can't live my life hiding somewhere. I'm capable of taking care of myself, your help is not needed."

"Let us help you, Severus," spoke Lupin, watching Snape's narrow back with concern. "The Aurors will found you or Voldemort will."

"What concern is it of yours?" snarled Snape, kicking a piece of wood into the fireplace.

"Don't refuse my help…"

"Or what?" laughed Snape as he whirled around, the black robes pooling around his feet. "You can't help everyone in the world, werewolf. Least of all you cannot help those who do not want it. I'm of no use here. Or is this help a new word for the one with the meaning of watching over me so that I shall not run back to the Dark Lord?"

The silence settled onto the kitchen again and with horror Snape realised that they indeed wanted not only to protect him, they wanted what Moody had said, to protect him from himself, from his dark side… In other words, they wanted to keep their eyes on him lest he does something stupid that may endanger the Order.

"To hell with you all!" he shouted, suddenly feeling very insecure without his wand among the Order members.

"No, Severus!" cried out Dumbledore and rushed to him, "That's not true, we're worried about your safety. You've done so much for us and the fact that you're under Voldemort's spell now and under Dark Arts pull won't change how grateful we are! That's why we want to protect you, no matter how confused you are right now."

"Confused, am I? What about, I wonder? What do you know of how confused I am? Do you think that I'm not sure which side should I be on? I've decided this long long ago. Confusion… you don't know what confusion is. My cousin tried to kill me. My cousin who is like an older brother to me!"

"Severus…"

"No, Dumbledore," Snape's hand rose to stop the headmaster, "There's only one thing I want to know. Will you let me go or are you going to keep me here by force?"

Moody smiled sadly, "We can't let you go, Snape. You know too much about the Order and if Voldemort gets you, then…"

"I know nothing about your recent activities, Moody. And the headquarters are safe as long as the headmaster is the secret keeper."

"I don't trust him," said Bill Weasley, but the others remained quiet.

"Where would you go, Severus?" asked Dumbledore gently.

"I've got my own hiding places," answered Snape, his lips curling. "Or have the Aurors found the place where I keep the illegal ingredients for my potions?"

From the expression in their faces Severus could tell that they knew nothing about his secret hiding place… or to be precise, places, and that neither Aurors did. "I see. I'm going to check on my father and that vampire. If you come to a decision, do let me know. And don't keep me waiting too long, I have no desire to spend more time in this house than I have to."

He left them to their owns and walked out of the kitchen with his head held up proudly, no emotion showing in his face. Only when he reached the stairs he allowed his mask to slip and reveal his worries. Tarquinius was standing at the staircase, hidden in a shadow, and he could see his son shaken and worried. In that moment he looked very insecure and vulnerable and the elder Snape felt an urge to hug him and to comfort him, but knew very well that if Severus knew he was watching him, he would certainly be furious with him.

§§

**__**

Author's notes: An update? NOW? When everyone's reading the sixth book? LOL I wonder how many people will read this chapter now when they have the Half-Blood Prince to read, but I couldn't come with this update earlier. And I so wanted to finish the story until the new book comes! But there's always something to complicate my life… The review responses are, as usually, in my LJ, so follow the homepage link in my bio page. Thank you all very much for reviewing! It's such a strange situation, I'm a mod at one forum, I went there today because of one thing and the discussions of HBP are already there... so I'm resisting the urge to peek into the HBP forum section… tough times… I'm so excited, hopefully my copy will arrive at Monday or Tuesday.


	24. Chapter TwentyFour

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Chapter Twenty-Four

When Arenwald opened his eyes again, he was feeling like a new-born – except for the small tingling in his skin he felt no pain, no physical pain – and it was a sensation he had almost forgotten during those couple of days he had been… in this place, wherever it was. However, he was still unbelievably tired and what was far worse and more uncomfortable, a monstrous hunger was creeping over him, craving fresh human blood. Certainly it was to be expected, blood was crucial for him to heal and to regain his powers. He yawned and stretched, enjoying for a while this new, remarkably painless feeling when a tempting perfume of wizarding blood reached his sensitive nostrils.

He turned his head to the direction it was coming from and there, seated in an armchair, the professor slept. In the gentle light of candles his face appeared to be less harsh and strict than usually. He would have seemed to be quite peaceful had it not been for the obvious tiredness marring his features. Even in sleep his face looked tired and Arenwald assumed that the professor had had an exhausting day or two. He had helped him though, had quickened his healing considerably. Had it not been for his potions, he would still be the half-burnt thing he had become after that cretin's curse in Azkaban.

The vampire rose from his bed and sat across from Severus, watching him sleeping. How come he had fallen asleep there? In the same room with him, a bloodthirsty dark creature? Did he not know how dangerous a starving vampire was? Gently so as not to rouse him, Arenwald brushed away Snape's hair to reveal his pale neck. He touched him tenderly, but then withdrew his hand. No, he can't harm this one.

The touch, though light, must have awoken the wizard for he opened his eyes and, much to Arenwald's surprise, he graced him with a rare smile. "I suppose that you're feeling better?" he asked softly while his black eyes were studying the expression in the vampire's gaunt face a bit warily.

"Yes, it is much better, I must thank you," answered Arenwald and looking hungrily at Snape, he added, "But this hunger…"

He trailed off, forcing himself not to think about it. This man was not to be harmed.

"You are allowed to leave here," spoke Snape calmly, "Someone will lead you out, shall I call for somebody?"

"And you?"

"Seeing that you're in no danger, I shall leave here as soon as I can too," said Snape, sounding a bit unsure as he glanced at a door, "Hopefully in less than half an hour."

"I highly doubt that, Snape," came Moody's mocking voice and he, Shacklebolt, Lupin, Arthur Weasley and Dumbledore entered the bedroom, "I'm afraid that you're not going anywhere. We can't have you out there where Voldemort can catch you at any time. Or are you forgetting the bond you have? The life debt to him?"

"What is it that you're suggesting, Moody?" exclaimed Snape, now sounding angry, "Are you planning to lock me here? You have no right to keep me here against my will!"

He moved to leave the bedroom, but Shacklebolt seized his arms and held them behind his back in an iron grip. Snape's anger intensified as he fought to wrench them away, but compared to the Auror's strength, his struggles were futile. He saw Dumbledore close his eyes, his face the picture of sorrow. Somehow it sent shivers down his spine and a cold hand clutched his heart tightly in a frosty grip. In his deep, reassuring voice, Shacklebolt tried to calm him, "We don't want to hurt you, Severus, but it's important for your and the Order's safety that you remain here. Will you not understand it?"

"And will you not understand that I can't stay here any longer?" hissed Snape, his voice low and iced with quiet fury, "I can't stand being here with the knowledge that you no longer trust me or that I'm of no use to you. Do you really believe that I would tell the Dark Lord your secrets were he to catch me? Shall I make an Unbreakable Vow for that case? I shall make it, if you just let me leave."

He turned to Dumbledore, seeking his gaze, "Headmaster, you can't do this to me. Let me leave with my father, we shall hide well from the Dark Lord and the Ministry, you should not be concerned."

Before he had the time to answer or chance to answer him, Tarquinius burst into the room, radiating fury. "What the hell is going on here?" he shouted and grabbed Moody by the collar of his robe, shaking him roughly. "You want to order MY son around? Tell him what to do after all he's done for you?"

Without a hesitation, he kicked Moody's healthy leg and threw him aside, looking for another prey. Meanwhile Arenwald flew into action. In a spilt of a second he was out of his bed and had Dumbledore imprisoned in his strong arms, teeth and fangs bared against his neck. "Now all of you will calm down," he said as everyone in the room froze, "I'm truly grateful for your help, but I'll kill your leader without hesitation if you don't let Snape leave with whomever he wants. Do we understand each other? Severus," he turned to Snape who to was frozen to the spot, watching the vampire with something like horror in his dark eyes, "take this as my repayment for your help and care."

Everyone's eyes settled on Snape who was looking genuinely confused and shocked. Arenwald frowned, puzzled by his expression and lack of reaction. "Severus," he spoke again, louder this time, "Go while I hold him."

But the Potions Master didn't move an inch, didn't speak a single word, actually, he appeared as if he wasn't even breathing. His eyes were on Dumbledore's, he was staring at him motionless while the Hogwarts headmaster remained calm, never struggling in Arenwald's arms.

"I'm afraid, Master Arenwald, that you'll either have to kill me or to release me," said Dumbledore, speaking more to Snape than the vampire, watching his face intently, "It is important for Severus that he leave as a friend."

Silence fell upon the bedroom then and all the eyes kept moving from Dumbledore to Snape and back. Only the two wizards in question were looking at one another, oblivious to the others, trying to communicate without words. As the silence grew heavier and heavier and the expression in Snape's face more desperate, Severus shook his head, walked to Dumbledore and touched the vampire's arm around his neck.

"Albus," he whispered softly so that no one else would hear him, "I must go. You're right in assuming that I would want to depart in a friendly way, but…" he let the end of the sentence hung in the air in a wordless threat and gestured to Arenwald to release the old wizard. The vampire, though wary, obliged. Dumbledore sighed and took Severus's hands into his.

"Come with me, I need to talk to you."

"It's certainly intriguing to see how you have suddenly decided to involve me in discussions about _my_ life," sneered Severus, his voice cold as ice, yet he followed him into library.

There, without the famous twinkle in his blue eyes, Dumbledore framed Snape's face in his hands and searching for depths in the dark eyes, he asked seriously, "Why do you threaten me, Severus? Are you afraid of me? Or is it hatred you feel? Confusion?"

"It is everything, Albus," the younger wizard replied, "and far more. Are you truly unaware of how much you hurt me sometimes? Let me leave and I shall be loyal to you forever. Please, give me this one gift, the knowledge that there's someone who trusts me. Someone I can return to, somewhere I may belong. Am I asking too much?"

"Oh Severus," shook his head Dumbledore, "you ask a hard thing from me."

In his desperation, Snape knocked the headmaster's hands away angrily and hissed, "How do you plan to prevent me from leaving? Will you bind me?"

"No, Severus. Don't you know that I would never harm you intentionally? If this is what you want, I won't object anymore. Let us part as friends."

And much to the younger man's amazement, Dumbledore pulled Snape's repaired wand from his pocket and handed it to the astonished wizard. "I believe that you'll need your wand."

Snape slumped into an armchair and whispered, "You're such a fool, Albus."

The headmaster crouched down in front of Snape and holding his wand hand, he began caressing it while frowning up at him, "Why a fool, Severus? You're troubled and confused, is there any way that I can help you? Do let me help you."

"You would never understand it," smirked Severus, beginning to be annoyed how everyone wanted to _'help him'_, "never understand us, the Slytherins, me. I would have given everything to be like one of your precious Gryffindors. But I am not brave," he bowed his head, hiding behind a curtain of black hair, "nor am I good and all I have are these terrible remnants of the Dark Lord's curse. Have you got any idea what a horrid thing this is, how empty I am inside? This emptiness… as if he took something from me… it's scary. I know you care and yet… You would have let me go, am I right? But the others… no, they don't trust me and believe me, I understand that, because I know that I'm not strong enough. I confess I might yield to him again. But I promise you I won't seek him, I'll hide. I shall seek myself a quiet place, solitude, and there I shall recover. I shall stand up against him when I am myself again and strong enough to survive it or accept my fall."

"Very well, Severus," sighed Dumbledore as both wizards stood up, "You will keep me informed, will you? Promise me that you'll turn to me in case you need help."

"You have my word," said Snape quietly.

"Good-bye then, my friend," smiled the headmaster as he watched the troubled wizard leave hesitantly as if expecting to be called back and denied this sudden chance of leaving. But Dumbledore knew better than to have him locked and though his smile faded into a sad shadow, he made no attempt to stop Snape. The former spy descended the stairs slowly with everyone watching him curiously. Moody seemed to be his paranoid self, studying him intently as if expecting him to apparate directly to the Dark Lord. Arthur and Molly Weasley wished him good luck, though Bill made no move and neither did Remus and Kingsley who stood watching him with a thoughtful expression in their faces.

The vampire and Tarquinius joined him at the front door and the sight of the elder Snape was enough for Dumbledore to deceive himself that the father and the son would take care of each other.

§§

**__**

Author's notes: Well, one more chapter to go. Originally I was planning to leave the ending a bit open… in case that I would pick the story up later, but after HBP there's no point in it and I've decided to rewrite my "Amaurotum" story instead (so that it will fit HBP more) and leave this as an AU (it was to be expected that the story will be AU after HBP). There's going to be one more chapter, a sort of an epilogue, which will give it a final end. Anyway, what do you think about our dear Snape? Is he good or evil? Personally I believe he's somewhere in between…

Thank you very much for your reviews too! You're wonderful. If you're interested, the review responses can be found in my LJ, follow the (homepage) link in my bio page.


	25. Chapter TwentyFive

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Five years had gone by since the time Snape, Tarquinius and Arenwald had walked out of the Grimmauld Place. In those hard years the wizarding world had changed greatly. Harry Potter had grown up, had matured faster thanks to the constant strain of the raging war though in Severus's eyes he remained the same old brat he had been at Hogwarts. He had had the "honour" of meeting the "hero" a few times. Dumbledore. Dumbledore had aged considerably, he wasn't as strong physically as he used to be, yet he was invaluable in leading the Order, his mind never showing any signs of his old age. As its result, Severus was now slowly walking through a snow-covered field near his home, all by himself, pondering the last five years.

Hiding had he been, far away from the British Isles, and he had grown tired of it. Those years had exhausted him more than spying or Dark Lord's mind games. Of course, he was still of help to the Order with his Dark Arts and Potions skills, but being unable to spy, he often felt useless. That's why, despite his father's and Arenwald's pleas, he had made up his mind and had returned to England to participate in Dumbledore's final plan. Of course, it wasn't without difficulty and the two men – or rather one man and one vampire – had yet to discover him gone. But he had had enough of hiding and he was prepared to finally stand up against his former master and … die. He entertained no illusion as to his survival and he was certain that the moment he had stepped a foot into this land, the Dark Lord knew. That was what he had persuaded himself to believe, though deep in his heart he realised he hoped that Dumbledore's plan wouldn't fail. Would the Dark Lord fall into their trap? He was to be the bait; he was to lure him out of his lair for his former master hardly ever took part in the battles. How was Potter supposed to kill him if he never entered into the fights?

From the moment he apparated into England, he felt watched – by eyes evil and eyes good – and wondered whether there would be time for him to witness the Dark Lord's death or to see his father again.

As the old Snape Manor came into his view, he stopped in his tracks and listened to the unnaturally quiet afternoon. Was he important enough for the Dark Lord that he would come personally to accomplish his revenge and kill him? Rarely had he avenged himself personally, usually he delegated the task to his faithful Death Eaters. But since he had spent so much time playing his games with him – and that was personal enough – Dumbledore believed he would come, he wouldn't let this chance fly away.

When he was going to walk on, the silence was disturbed and Severus found himself inside a circle of his former companions. All clad in black they looked like ravens in the brightness of the winter afternoon. They stood motionless and quiet with wands pointed at him and eyes cruel, darkened. However, they were without their Lord, noted Snape with disappointment, the Dark Lord hadn't arrived. Yet none of them moved or said a word, waiting they were. Suddenly he was certain that the Dark Lord would come. What an honour to have his former master himself deliver his revenge! Once again, Albus Dumbledore had been right – Voldemort's pride had been hurt by his escape. Those five years that he went by uncovered must have hurt his pride even more. Despite the situation Severus couldn't help not to smile and he noticed how the Death Eaters' eyes hardened by seeing it. He sneered at them, but before he could tell them anything, the sound of someone apparating interrupted him.

There he was and as he approached, the Death Eaters bowed deeply to him. Up and down did he look Snape and smiled in satisfaction while he touched Snape's cold cheek. "How have you been, my broken one? Have you slept one single night in those long years?" he whispered icily and Severus felt coldness wash over him as he shivered.

Severus didn't reply, he just looked into the brilliant red eyes and waited.

"Why are you here, my child?" asked Voldemort, his eyes boring into Snape's, "Do you seek death? It is far from your nature to put yourself in danger like this."

"Living in hiding has exhausted me, my Lord," said Severus simply while he was wondering when the Order would appear.

"Obviously you are tired of living too. This in not you, Severus," hissed Voldemort, yanking Snape's hair, "to wish for death. What is it you want? Do you want to lure me into a trap? When will Dumbledore come? What's your plan? You can't kill me, no one can."

A smile crept to Snape's face, "I apologise for disappointing you, my Lord, but you're mistaken. No longer are you immortal," he sneered and added in whisper, "your horcruxes have been destroyed. You are as mortal as anyone of us."

For a moment all colour drained from Voldemort's face, then it returned and he laughed dryly. "My Severus, too often have you deceived me with your manipulations. But what is this? Have you lost your slyness? Can you think of no better lie? Something that I would actually be able to believe in?"

"I wonder, what is the best punishment for a filthy little traitor like yourself?" hissed Voldemort, "Should I crucio you to death? Should I ruin that brilliant mind of yours by this curse? Should I leave you to your former companions to do as their please?"

He gripped Snape's thin wrists and drew him to himself. "You're trembling, my dear child. Have Dumbledore forgotten to come to your aid? Has his plain failed?"

Although Severus knew that Dumbledore would certainly come, he was also well aware of the risk and the possibility that he might be late. Acting quickly, Snape snatched his wrists away from Voldemort's iron grip and pulling a dagger from his boot, he stabbed it into Dark Lord's arm. Much to the dark wizards' astonishment blood soaked their master's sleeve, falling drop by drop to the ground where it stained the whiteness of snow with its shining redness. Death Eaters froze in horror as they saw their immortal lord bleeding and cry in rage. Bleeding he was, he who was immortal, he who had sacrificed his soul to eternal life and glory. With another furious cry he lunged at Snape, threw him to the ground and pushed him deep into snow, hands at his throat. Snape struggled desperately against the skeletal, but strong hands and sighed in relief when he heard the sound of wizards apparating. However, before he could throw the Dark Lord off himself, something hard hid his temple and darkness descended upon his consciousness.

§§

Members of the Order threw themselves into battle with Harry and Dumbledore rushing to where Voldemort had stood up. The Headmaster winced at the sight of motionless Severus in snow and Voldemort's cruel smirk, but in spite of his distress, he began invoking an ancient spell, calling upon Lily to come from the world of shadows to aid her son in his most important battle.

§§

"I'M GOING TO KILL THAT MAN!" shouted someone and Severus cringed at the harsh sound, wincing as darkness veiling him was lifted slowly. Bright light assaulted his eyes and he flinched as powerful arms crushed him to some wide chest. He moaned in pain as his injured temple hit a hard button and he nearly went insane when he saw, far far away, the unmistakable shadowy figure of Lily Evans. He must be imagining things… he must be dead despite the pain he felt.

A heavy hand was rubbing his aching back too strongly and he was cold, so cold he was freezing, and then there were warm hands caressing his cheek with a sudden gentleness.

"How could you do this, Severus!" cried his … father? "Is this a Slytherin behaviour, putting yourself in danger like this? Have you and Dumbledore gone mad?"

"We couldn't… use Harry…" mumbled Severus, "too risky and … Where's…?"

"Dead," replied another voice and Snape looked up into the smiling brown eyes of Remus Lupin.

"I… I do not… believe it," whispered Snape, now remembering the plan they had with Dumbledore and ancient magic as he staggered to his feet gracelessly, "Where is he?"

"Everything's going according to our plan," said Lupin, grinning wildly, "Harry's got a wonderful power inside himself, ancient magic's working well…"

Snape scowled at him and looked around at the two fighting sides. The Dark Lord might be dead (but then why wasn't his Dark Mark gone?) but the Death Eaters wouldn't succumb to Aurors so soon.

Without any further words, Severus ran through the battlefield to the place where Voldemort and Potter had been fighting. There his eyes fell at the utterly exhausted Dumbledore breathing heavily on the ground, shocked Potter and … and the Dark Lord himself. In spite of the news he was still alive, his breathing faint, dying. Next to him Lucius was kneeling, his grey eyes filled with shock and disbelief and something akin to… sadness? Severus knelt to him and watched warily the once powerful wizard fading away. 'How have the ancient spell worked?' he wondered, seeing no visible injury in Dark Lord's body.

"My cunning little traitor," laughed Voldemort grimly, his trembling fingers touching Snape's cold cheek lightly, "I do… hope you knew… no rest or peace… in hiding. Do not… Lucius… do not let him be in peace… never, never."

"Take him with you, my Lord," whispered Lucius viciously as he bent to Voldemort's ear, "You haven't broken your bond completely. Take him down with you, the traitor."

A horrid smile crossed Voldemort's ghastly features as he pulled Snape to himself with inhuman strength. A cry swept through the wizards around when Snape fell to the ground and transparent cords appeared to bind him to his former master. Forgetting his exhaustion, Dumbledore jumped to his feet, shouting orders to prevent Voldemort die with his spy.

Fortunately, the Dark Lord was weakened too much to take Snape with him though he didn't let him go.

"I can't," he moaned hoarsely as magical cords were fading away, his voice tainted with fear of the near death, "you will… revenge me… Lucius."

Lucius nodded as the last sigh escaped through Dark Lord's parched lips and turned his grey gaze to his cousin who said quietly, "It is finished."

§§

Although the noise of a wild celebration reached Snape too, it didn't make him join the party, he preferred to sit in an armchair near a burning fireplace, all by himself, listening to the happy noises coming from downstairs and pondering recent events. He had reasons to celebrate too – Dark Lord was gone and his name was cleared – after many years he was finally free from his master and yet the melancholic mood wasn't about to leave him. In one hand he held a crystal glass of finest firewhiskey and in other, a trembling one, a deadly poison design to leave hardly any traces, killing quickly and painlessly. It was one of his most brilliant creations, originally meant for him in case he would find himself back in Azkaban. He hadn't been imprisoned, thanks to Albus, but he had another use for the poison. In his brooding he hadn't noticed the vampire enter the room. During the five years he had spent in hiding, Arenwald had often come to visit him and although Severus was still wary of him, he had treasured those hours of friendly and intelligent discussions when the vampire would break his loneliness for a while.

"Why," Arenwald asked simply.

"You will never understand," sighed Severus, toying with the small vial, "Never. You may accuse me of weakness or even of foolishness, my friend, but I shall do it."

"I shall never call you weak," objected Arenwlad, "nor foolish. What you are to do is an act of mercy and forgiveness. But I must warn you. If anyone sees you…"

"Then I shall never have the opportunity to enjoy my freedom, I am well aware of this risk," smiled Severus and added, "But neither shall I enjoy it were I to let him suffer. Excuse me now, duty calls me."

"Be careful," called Arenwald, his eyes following Snape's departure with worry, "take care, my friend."

§§

On the next day, when most of the wizarding population was attempting to cure their hangover, news of Lucius Malfoy's death in Azkaban made it to the front page of Daily Prophet. "Lucius Malfoy Found Dead!", "Malfoy Escaped the Dementor's Kiss" and similar titles were the news of the day. As Severus was returning to Snape Manor with his father, a good half of the Order was parting with him with a suspicious glare. Snape paid them no attention. With Voldemort gone, this strange – never known before – lightness descended upon him. At first it had been hard to believe the Dark Lord dead, but with his Dark Mark disappearing all the bonds fell off him and peace settled upon his soul. For the first time in his life he was looking forward to return to Snape Manor and start a new life – that of a scholar and Potions researcher – working on his own with a few talented apprentices. And among the glares directed at him there were gazes filled with pride and admiration and those were enough to make him happy for they belonged to people he himself admired.

But first he would go to Lucius's grave to put flowers there and he would have to make sure that Draco would be alright and his father would have something to do too.

THE END

_**Author's notes:** It took a long time to update this story, didn't it? I can't even write down all the reasons and apologies, the most important would be that I've been swallowed by 'real life' and somehow it filled my mind with other things than writing. I suppose I had a writer's block too and now when the final chapter is written, I don't feel satisfied with it. It might be because I'm rarely satisfied with what I write, but also because I could have lost contact with this story during those months and it was quite difficult coming back to it. I know I haven't described Voldemort's fall with much detail, but that's something I can't imagine how it will be done. Yet I hope you'll enjoy it and I'll be able to continue on my other story called 'Amaurotum'. Thank you very much for all those you have reviewed by story, you don't know how happy and grateful I am for all the reviews. :-)_


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